


a world I wish I was in: Academy Phase

by Seuris, Songspinner



Series: a world I wish I was in [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Childhood Friends, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, M/M, Minor Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Byleth, Pining, Sign Language, Teenagers, Twin Byleths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seuris/pseuds/Seuris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songspinner/pseuds/Songspinner
Summary: Claude and Dimitri forged an unbreakable friendship as children. A few years of separation take their toll on two young heirs with too much responsibility and not enough support, but they reunite at Garreg Mach and realize that maybe just friendship isn't all they want anymore...but will they ever tell each other so?Sequel to the Childhood Phase work in this series.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Hilda Valentine Goneril & Claude von Riegan
Series: a world I wish I was in [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591729
Comments: 57
Kudos: 261





	1. Letters

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read the first work in this series, I recommend doing that first!
> 
> This one picks up during the three-ish years they're separated, with some of the letters they write. (They exchanged more letters early on that aren't shown here, too.) Then it's academy time!
> 
> (The first letter here is actually from SS's Dimiclaude Week 2020 stuff. There were more in between the first and second, that we just didn't write out.)

_7 Great Tree Moon, 1177_  
  
Hey Mitya!

Your last letter took forever to get here. They said there was a snowstorm up in the mountains and the messenger was stuck up there in a lookout post for days. Maybe the next time I visit you in Fhirdiad, there will be a storm like that! We'll be trapped inside the palace. Maybe it will last months and I'll just have to stay there with you all that time. oh noooooooo ;)

Remember that time I showed you all the constellations here in Derdriu? Well, I know you can't see the stars most of the time from where you are, so I found someone to paint the sky for you and draw all the constellations on it! So you can look at it even when you're not here. (I'm going to tell the messenger to be really careful with this package. I hope it's not ruined by the time you get it...)

Speaking (or writing) of the stars, I was looking at Garreg Mach Monastery on a map and it's up in the mountains, so I bet we'll be able to see the sky clearly all the time when we get to the Officer's Academy. We can go stargazing whenever you want. I also bet we'll get snow there. So it will be like we're in Fhirdiad and Derdriu at the same time. The best of both worlds! My grandfather says they have a pond there, too, which means you can keep teaching me how to skate in the winter.

I wish you were still here. Recently, I've started attending meetings with my grandfather, so I can get up to speed on current politics and meet all the lords. It's an etiquette nightmare, they all find new things I did or didn't do to complain about. I'm pretty sure most of them hate me (what else is new), except Judith of course. You remember her, right?

And I heard that things in the Kingdom are getting worse, with bandit attacks and rebellions and whatnot. Not to scare you, and I'm sure you know this already, but when things get like this, the first targets are always the ruling nobles. I know you can protect yourself and you have Rodrigue, but still. Stay safe, Mitya. Have you discovered anything more yet about you-know-what? I haven't, but don't worry. I'm still looking.

I did find a new book in the downtown library, though, about Crests and their symbolism. You know how House Riegan's coat of arms is a crescent moon? It's because that's the shape of our Crest, but there's more to it than that. Throughout history, bearers of the Riegan Crest have been associated with various aspects of lunar mythology or phenomena, especially those with Major Crests. Mine's only Minor, but don't you think I'm mysterious and enchanting enough to be like the moon? ;) The book says the Blaiddyd Crest represents justice. Well, I could have told them that, just from knowing you! But if I'm the moon, then you're like the sun. Bright and warm.

_[Here there's a little drawing of a sun with Dimitri's shoulder-length hair and a smiley face and a lance, beside another little drawing of a moon with Claude's curls and braid, a smiley face, and a bow.]_

_[Another couple of pages follow, describing everything from meals Claude's eaten, to conversations he's had with the shopkeeper at the tea shop Dimitri likes, to a new kind of ship he saw in the bay that he's never seen before. Finally, on the last page:]_

I miss you. I can't wait until we get to the Academy and I get to spend every day with you again. I've met a few of the other Alliance kids who will be there with us, in my house, but I don't think any of them like me. One of them wouldn't even look at me let alone talk to me, one of them called me an "ignorant fool," one of them gave me a huge fake smile and a bunch of empty flattery (she obviously wanted something), and one of them said he didn't believe I was the real heir at all and his father was going to prove it. Sometimes I think about going back home, but then I'd never achieve my dream, and besides, you wouldn't be there. Then sometimes I think about running away to Fhirdiad. Do you think Rodrigue would mind? ;) Don't worry, I'm only kidding. (Mostly.)

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_29 Guardian Moon, 1178_

Hey Mitya!

Sorry it's been a little while since I've written, I'm so busy these days. My responsibilities have really picked up, going to all my grandfather's meetings and studying up on current events in every Alliance territory. Every time I don't know the answer to a question or immediately recognize someone I haven't met just by their regalia, someone makes yet another snide comment about how I'm an unacceptable heir or I'm irresponsible and lazy or they expected no better from me, blah blah blah. I made Judith laugh out loud at the last Roundtable, though, with my comeback. ;) So, business as usual, I guess.

I heard that the Gloucester heir, Lorenz, is traveling to Fhirdiad to study at the school of sorcery. I'm going to try to figure out an excuse to accompany him on the trip so I can see you, although spending days on the road with him sounds horrific. I might not be able to find the time, anyway. But I'll try.

Speaking of the other noble kids around here, remember that girl I told you about, Hilda Goneril? The one with all the fake tears and flattery? It turns out she's actually a really interesting person. She's funny and much smarter than she makes people think, and she's got a real cunning behind that vacuous smile she's always putting on. She's staying here in Derdriu for a while, and I think we might be, you know. Together.

In your last letter, you said you were preparing to fight your maiden battle. By the time you get this, you'll probably have done it already, so I want to hear all about it! You're amazing, so I'm sure it went well.

_[Here there's a little drawing of a stick figure Dimitri brandishing a lance with a big smile and wearing a long, flowy cape.]_

I'm sure I've fallen behind you in combat training by now. I spend so much time on politics and studying that some days there's no room for archery practice. By the time we get to the Academy, you'll wipe the floor with me! I'll have to come up with some tricks to win anyway. ;)

As always, I miss you. Some days, I can't stand this city anymore. But I think about you, and our dreams, and how we'll change the world, and I can keep at it.

Keep shining like the sun, Mitya.

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_15 Harpstring Moon, 1178_

_[Compared to letters sent from Fhirdiad in the past, the parchment is of significantly lower quality, the ink within it smudged and its hand uneven... what's more, though—it has strayed far from the bag of a messenger, and instead finds its resting place in a drawer of the desk of the Grand Duke.]_

Claude,

I do not know if this letter will see its way to Derdriu. I'm sending this from Itha, and the rebellion here that I've come to quell. I don't have anyone else to tell this to. Part of me doesn't want to even tell you. I don't want you to think differently of me.

Something's happened to me, and I'm afraid. I became so angry during the battle. Furious in a way I never have been before. I killed people here, but ~~what's more is that I don't know how I~~ I can't begin to describe the things that I've done here. They were afraid of me. Even Felix was. More than anything I don't want you to be afraid of me but more than anything I can't lie to you.

Rodrigue said that he's concerned for me. He's probably afraid too, of the things that I can do. What I'm apparently willing to do, in battle. I wasn't even thinking about it, it isn't like I wanted to, but I just did it like it was so natural. I haven't slept without seeing it in my dreams since. Felix hasn't talked to me, and though we were supposed to stay here for some time longer, uncle is calling us back to Fhirdiad. This is the first time in years that he's wanted to speak to me.

I miss you so much. I don't want you to think ill of me, or to be afraid of me. I don't know if I could bear it. But I want you to know. In a letter that my uncle won't be reading. I can't wait to see you again. Thinking about meeting you at the Academy is the only thing I've looked forward to for so long. I think of you often and hope things have gotten better for you. I really, really do. Your happiness means so much to me, so please take care of yourself, and stay safe.

Dimitri

* * *

_21 Garland Moon, 1178_

_[This letter comes not by messenger but from a young squire who’s part of an Alliance delegation traveling to Fhirdiad on business.]_

Mitya,

I could never be afraid of you. You’re my closest friend. I’m grateful that you still trust me enough to tell me about this. As always, your secrets are safe with me.

I keep hearing worrying rumors about the situation in the Kingdom. They say it’s getting even worse. Remember that if you’re ever in danger, you always have a place here with me. Even if I have to smuggle you out of Fhirdiad in a barrel. ;)

I don’t really know Felix, but if he keeps ignoring you, maybe you could try writing him a letter. And I bet Rodrigue is just worried for you.

Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Hilda tells me I talk about you too much (but of course nothing she shouldn’t know). I told her that just makes me want to talk about you even more! But in all seriousness, I miss you too. The Academy can’t come soon enough.

Tell Rodrigue I said he’d better take good care of you until then, okay?

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_20 Blue Sea Moon, 1178_

Dearest Claude, 

You don't know what it means to me for you to say that. In the time since my last letter, Rodrigue has been travelling to gather information in regards to my condition, and has even returned with an instructor to aid in my meditations. I fear what may come to provoke me once again in the future, but it helps, I believe, having found the outlets I did.

As much as I would like to speak to Felix again, I am hesitant to push him. More than anything, his responsibilities within House Fraldarius have only increased, and I could never burden him after coming to know this.

I had forgotten to say as much in my last letter, but it pleases me that you have found someone you enjoy being with. From your description, it sounds as if you and Hilda are quite alike, and I imagine you must get on quite well. I'm happy for you.

I can only hope that this letter will reach you before your birthday, because enclosed within is a gift for you, minor in comparison to most, I'm afraid, but I had something similar made for myself. It's a charm, meant to adorn your bracelet, should you still have it. My own was made to resemble a griffon head; I would like to think that yours could be Eyvindr, or even her, but I know that you're fond of wyverns in general.

I hope that your birth month treats you well, and that our time together at the Academy comes swiftly. I cannot wait to see you again, and to show you how my flying has improved, albeit on a pegasus as opposed to a wyvern. It still terrifies me, greatly, but thinking of your effortlessness in the air is inspiring, as you always are to me.

Yours, always, and eagerly awaiting our reunion,

Dimitri

* * *

_1 Horsebow Moon, 1178_

Hey Mitya!

It's good to hear that Rodrigue is helping you. And if nothing else, Felix will be there at the Academy too, so I can trick him into talking to you then.

Yeah, Hilda and I are pretty similar in a lot of ways. It's weird sometimes, though, when she does that flattery stuff to me. She knows I don't fall for it, so why do it? Just a habit, I guess. What about you, is there anyone I should know about? ;)

Of course I still have the bracelet! Why wouldn't I? The charm is perfect, thank you. :) Your letter got here the day after my birthday, but that's okay. It was like having an extra one with you! I'm looking forward to seeing you ride a pegasus again. Sometimes I still can't believe they exist! Yesterday I took a midday nap in a tree and thought of you. Oh, and the lady at your favorite tea shop says hello.

Sorry this one is so short, I'm on my way to the Eastern Church for the ceremony to kick off Alliance Founding Day preparations. I wish you could be here for the festival.

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_30 Wyvern Moon, 1178_

Beloved Claude,

I don't know that I would attempt such a thing, tricking Felix. I know you haven't a real frame of reference as to what he was like in the past but, at least when speaking to me, he has become considerably more aggressive than he was. If I can help it... I intend to leave him be. He has made clear his wish for some distance.

I assure you, I have no relationship of the sort worth mentioning. There have been some suiting attempts, mostly noble lords with their daughters who have visited the palace, but if my demeanor did not scare them off, my dancing most certainly did.

My uncle states that he wishes to involve me more in his discussions. I cannot fathom what his motivations could be, but Rodrigue has warned me to conduct myself carefully in his presence. In any case, I fear that I could use the experience in politics that you have already gained...

How I wish to return to Derdriu. I know better than to think you spend your days merely relaxing, but if I were there, even working twice as hard, being with you would make every moment of effort worth it. I hope that you enjoyed the festival enough for the both of us.

Yours always,

Dimitri

* * *

15 Ethereal Moon, 1178

Mitya,

All right, I'll leave Felix alone. But if he's too aggressive with you, he'll have to deal with me. Fair warning.

Yikes, random suitor roulette--my condolences. My grandfather has made some noises about potential arranged marriages, but the Alliance takes that stuff less seriously than Faerghus does, so it's not a priority. I told him I have way too much on my plate to worry about that kind of thing right now and he caved. And Hilda went back to Goneril and we agreed neither of us really has the inclination to try to carry on anything at a distance, so that's that.

Wow, what's with your uncle? At least Rodrigue's got your back. Don't worry, when we get to the Academy I'll talk your ear off about politics. ;) And you can beat me in sword training again as much as you want, though don't think I'll go easy on you when we engage in mock battles! Unless you do want to team up against Edelgard, the offer's still open.

The festival was fun. It's nice to see everyone getting together and smiling for a change, even if a lot of those smiles are just for appearances. How was the Kingdom Founding Day celebration last month? I'd like to come to Fhirdiad to see it sometime. Or at all. One of these days. If you ever do find the time to visit Derdriu, I'll make sure to put aside some time just for us.

Speaking of celebrations, happy birthday! This letter might arrive early, but you can wait to open the gift I sent with it if you want to. I won't spoil the surprise here, just in case! But I hope you like it.

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_2 Pegasus Moon, 1178_

Thank you. I know I can't stop you, whatever you choose to do about Felix, but it is probably for the best.

If only such a thing as what you've said to your grandfather would work on my uncle. He entertains the 'need' for a queen, but will never discuss with me the trappings of it. Heirs and legacies and such. I can only assume it to be because he himself is the elder brother but lacks a Crest... but I am sorry to hear that, about Hilda.

If at all possible, I would rather we could talk about something other than politics. Perhaps it would be the responsible thing to discuss it, but I'm not certain I will care so greatly about being responsible, by then. I'm much more concerned hearing that the Academy has both pegasi and wyverns in their stables.

As far as our founding celebration, I actually cannot speak on it. I was feeling unwell at the time and unable to attend myself, and so my uncle had to make his appearance alone.

I cannot express how kind and thoughtful your gift was. It's been a long time since I've last enjoyed a meal, but for our dinner on my birthday, I was able to request that the kitchens use at least some of your recipes, and I must say, for a moment it felt as if I were back in Derdriu again. All that I was missing was you.

You are as thoughtful as ever, and I intend to repay your kindness when I'm better able to at the academy.

Yours always,

Dimitri

* * *

4 Great Tree Moon, 1179

Mitya,

Wow, the Kingdom is so obsessed with Crests. I mean, everywhere in Fodlan is, but there especially. What you've told me about Sylvain's father doesn't paint a great picture, either. Shouldn't they at least wait for your coronation?

No need to be sorry about Hilda, it was amicable and to be honest, neither of us was really feeling ready for anything serious, you know? And I think we might be a little too similar, ha. She'll be at the Academy with us, too, so you'll get to meet her anyway.

Hey, you know I'm always up for flouting noble expectations. I'll be glad to Not Talk about politics with you. And to fly with you! We should have a race, pegasus vs. wyvern, who will win? ;) This year feels interminable already.

You were feeling unwell? What was the matter, were you sick?

You can't see me smiling about you enjoying those meals, but trust me, I'm doing it. Like this: :D And it was a gift, Mitya...but if you really want to repay me, who am I to argue?

Still miss you.

Your friend always,

Claude

* * *

_29 Harpstring Moon, 1179_

You would be right about the Kingdom's Crest obsession. Some have more fervor than others, and even the most tolerant and compassionate of nobles don't truly escape the sentiment. Even parts of my family were the same way, in spite of our greatest strengths having come from a time before Crests.

I see. In that case, I'm glad that the two of you could part on good terms, especially since she'll be attending with us. In just over a year from now, in fact...

I don't know if I'm quite ready for any races, now. I still can't go very fast, or very high for that matter, without making myself ill... not if I'm the one holding the reins and needing to look where I'm going, that is.

Not sick so much as... uneasy. I am a little ashamed to admit it, but I don't seem to handle crowds very well, as of late. Rarely have I ever felt so uncomfortable as I do now when surrounded by others. I did journey to the celebration, but left before I could join the public.

I do wish to repay you. I would wish to do so even if you hadn't given me a gift. I don't think there will come a time where I ever tire of doing things for you. I swore to you I would always support you, even in these small ways, and I intend to. I want to.

Yours always,

Dimitri

* * *

_1 Blue Sea Moon, 1179_

I guess I shouldn't complain about Crests too much, mine got me where I am. That and Judith. Still, all this fuss over something no one can control, dictating people's lives over it? It's terrible.

It's kind of funny how many of the other students at the Academy we'll already know. I guess that's what happens when there are only so many noble houses and they're the only ones who can consistently afford to send their children there. I've been reading up on the history of Garreg Mach monastery. It's pretty fascinating, if a little intimidating. I'm hoping being right in the Church's lap will give us an opportunity to read more about all kinds of things. Judith told me the library there is enormous.

Don't worry, you'll get the hang of heights. I'll help! We'll have you doing pegasus somersaults in no time. ;)

I'm glad you didn't get sick, at least. I can understand, about crowds--I'm always the center of attention when I walk into a crowded room, whether I want to be or not, and someone's always watching everything I do. It gets exhausting. If we have any big parties at the Academy, you and I can sneak off somewhere else.

Thank you, Mitya. That means a lot. I want to support you, too, so never think you're burdening me if you need something. Anything! Okay? Promise me.

I miss you.

Claude

* * *

_22 Verdant Rain Moon, 1179_

It surprises me little at this point. It's an awful thing to get used to, but I suppose it's to be expected. People say that Crests were the gifts of the Goddess, so it would stand that so many people view those 'blessed' with a Crest as being worthy of status or wealth or power...

Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid will all be in attendance, though I haven't had the opportunity to meet any others so far. I do hope I'll come to get along with my other housemates. But I thought much the same, about the library that is. The amount of knowledge they possess must be quite substantial, though I worry that, given the Empire's influence in their dealings, they may have come to censor their materials much like Adrestia attempted to censor ours...

I don't know about somersaults. If anything, learning to fly has only given me a greater appreciation for my dearest Aramis, as well as the other two. That does remind me, though, that I never got to tell you that Phantasia will be accompanying me to the Officer's Academy as well! I'm quite excited for it, and I know she will be happy to see you again, too.

Crowds have always been exhausting for me, but this, I have no way of describing. You know at least a little of my paranoia, I suppose I would have to call it. It seems to worsen when I find myself in throngs of people, now. It becomes difficult to think, in a way, if that makes sense.

I could say the same for you as well. I know that you dislike asking for help, but you know I will never judge you, not for anything. You and I have each other, nothing will change that.

I miss you, too. But, as of my writing this, we've a few short months before we will be able to meet again.

Yours, always and sincerely,

Dimitri

* * *

_6 Wyvern Moon, 1179_

~~The more learn about the Goddess, the more I think~~

Crests are just one more thing that creates insiders and outsiders, aren't they. Well, I've heard that the Golden Deer house at the Academy is usually the one with the most commoners in it. I like that. I don't know what it'll be like, being a house leader, but I hope I can make them feel as welcome as anyone else. Assuming they even want me as their house leader. Just kidding! I'll win them over with my roguish good looks and charming smile. ;)

Your housemates will love you! Just wait and see. As for censorship, let's just say I've developed a knack for getting my hands on things I'm not supposed to see. You would think, as the duke's heir, I'd be privy to more or less everything. But most of the nobles around here go out of their way to keep me out of the loop, it seems. Including my grandfather, in some respects. Locked drawers filled with secret records he won't show me, that sort of thing. Which isn't to say that I haven't seen them.

I can't wait to see Phantasia again! I ride horses all the time, of course, but it's not the same. Yours are special. She and I can make trouble together all year long. ;)

I can't say I know what it's like to have difficulty thinking. Sometimes to my detriment. Paranoia, though, I understand. _[The beginnings of another sentence are scribbled out here, illegible.]_

Your letters always feel like a breath of fresh air, you know. I've still never met anyone like you. (In a good way!) I wish I had the time to write longer letters and more often, the way we used to. But we're not kids anymore, I guess. Still, it means we'll have a lot to catch up on once we get to the Academy. I wonder what meeting Edelgard will be like? I hope I get along with her. For reasons. You know.

Yours,

Claude  


* * *

_20 Ethereal Moon, 1179_

_[This letter is neater in some places, and in others, has devolved into patches of half-illegible scrawl; that it has been sent at all must mean the prince hasn't noticed.]_

They would be absurd not to accept you. Even more so once they came to know even a shred of your ideals. Though you already know how I feel about your ambitions.

While it would come in handy, I would never ask you to put yourself in the position to get in trouble. 

It will be good for Phantasia to get some exercise. She's been taken out by others in my stead, since I have had little time for riding lately. I am certain she'll still adore you.

I cannot speak to seeing Edelgard again, but I find myself waiting with bated breath for the day I leave to Garreg Mach. Even were I not so anxious to see you again, Fhirdiad feels more a prison than a home, sometimes. It will be nice to get away...

* * *

_28 Ethereal Moon, 1179_

Mitya, are you okay? Your last letter was a little ~~concerning~~ ~~messy~~ inconsistent. And terse. I mean, I know I said we don't have the time to write longer letters anymore, but that wasn't what I meant. And your handwriting is usually neater.

I'm worried about you. What's going on? Do you need me to figure out an emergency way to get to Fhirdiad?

* * *

_24 Guardian Moon, 1180_

Claude,

I apologize if I upset you with my last letter. It wasn't my intent to worry you. I will tell you when we've reached the Officer's Academy; the four of us will be leaving to the Oghma Mountains today. I hope that your travels are safe whenever you should depart from Derdriu. 

Dimitri


	2. Garreg Mach: Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn’t take Claude long to return to the dorms, but by the time he gets there he finds himself feeling weirdly nervous. Which is silly, he tells himself - this is Dimitri, who has promised that nothing will ever change between them, who snuck messages to him when they were too private to send by ordinary messenger...surely it will be fine. He finds the door Mercedes indicated and takes a moment to collect himself, and then...knocks.
> 
> There's silence on the other side, a few beats of soft rustling, the pad of footsteps across the floor. In Claude's mind he's replaying the first time they met in person all over again in these few seconds. Will it be like that again? Or will it be like no time has passed at all? Or--
> 
> The door cracks just slightly and out pokes...

_1 Pegasus Moon, 1180_

The trip to Garreg Mach monastery from Derdriu ends up being slightly less boring and lonely than Claude anticipated, but not by much. Margrave Edmund's daughter Marianne joins him on the ride, and although she's pleasant enough company, she barely talks at all, no matter how hard Claude tries to engage her or how friendly he is. He comes to the conclusion after a few days of this that she just hates him like everyone else does, and leaves her alone.

So by the time they arrive at the monastery, towering at the top of a road that winds up the foothills of the nearby mountain, Claude's mood is a maddening war between the nigh-unbearable excitement to see Dimitri again and the crushing realization that, in a place with so many people around his own age who are all from Fodlan, Dimitri and Hilda really are likely to be the only ones who don't hate him here. He's not sure why he expected it to be any different...wishful thinking, he supposes. Still, he's not attending the Academy to make friends--well, not _real_ friends. He's attending to learn, and to make connections that he can leverage once he's Duke Riegan. He doesn't need any friends besides those two. He'll lead well and try his best to fit in, but he never really will. And he's used to that.

The gatekeeper greets him cheerfully enough, explaining how to get to the dorms and the classrooms and the dining hall. Claude asks him about the library, too, before heading over to his room to find that his uniform, complete with its house leader cape--the one he helped design, within some specifications given by the Church--is waiting for him there. It's an odd moment, changing into that uniform and looking at himself in the mirror. He's never been any kind of leader before; who would follow him? The Golden Deer will all know who he is already, of course, but they won't know _him_ , and maybe it's better that way. Maybe he can lead them better if he keeps his distance.

He tries on his usual smile and finds that it goes with the uniform rather well. Good. Now...he probably ought to greet his own house first, but frankly, if he doesn't find Dimitri soon he might not be able to look his housemates in the face at all. But he doesn't know where the prince's room is and doesn't feel like knocking on every door until he finds the right one--and besides, he doubts Dimitri's spending all his time in there anyway--so instead he makes his way over to the Blue Lions' classroom, taking in everything there is to see on the monastery grounds on the way there. He has to admit, it's pretty amazing--he can really _feel_ the weight of history in its walls as he passes beneath their stony gazes.

The classroom doors are wide open, so his knock is perfunctory, just to be polite. A quick scan of the room shows him that a few people are here, but none of them are Dimitri. "Hey there, Blue Lions." He smiles.

Ingrid looks up from perusing a list of their classmates' names and families sitting on the empty professor's desk and smiles politely. "Good day. Can we help you with something? Oh--" She spots the bright yellow cape fluttering in the breeze. "You're the Golden Deer house leader, aren't you?" _Oh. Wait, that means--_

"That's me." Claude really doesn't want to take the time to observe pleasantries, but it's...expected. Besides, being rude to Dimitri's classmates isn't the best way to get them to help him. "I'm Claude von Riegan."

 _So this is the infamous Claude..._ Ingrid moves toward the front of the room, and Mercedes joins her. "Of course you are. I'm Ingrid, and this is Mercedes."

Hearing the newcomer's name seems to have brought warmth to the softness of Mercedes' face. When she approaches Claude, her eyes shine with enthusiasm, and curiosity that she doesn't bother to hide. "You're Claude?" comes her soft voice, and a tilt of her head sends her hair cascading gently over her shoulder. Her smile widens. "Oh, it's wonderful to finally meet you! Dimitri has told me so much about you."

 _Funny, he hasn’t mentioned you at all...why is that?_ Ingrid, though, Claude knows, by name and description if not by face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. Say, I don’t suppose you know where Dimitri is?”

"The last that I saw him... it looked as if he was going to the library, but that was some time ago. Normally by now, he would be back in his room." Mercedes turns, digs through the pockets of her skirts, before producing a few different vials. "If you're going to find him, would you mind taking his medicine to him for me? It's a little early yet, but he'll need to do it soon. His room is on the top floor of the dormitories, the second to last door."

 _Huh. She carries his medicine around for him? That’s...new._ And she doesn’t call Dimitri by his title, which would make the prince happy but isn’t something Claude's heard anyone else from Faerghus do except Rodrigue, and even then not to his face. He isn’t sure what’s bugging him about all that, but he keeps his smile up masterfully and takes the vials with a nod. “Of course. Sounds like his room isn’t far from mine, then, so that should be easy enough.” He’s suddenly feeling like if he stays in this room with these people who have gotten to spend the last three years with Dimitri any longer he’ll say something he’d regret. “Well, I won’t keep you. But I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots more of each other. Next time, I hope to meet Sylvain and Felix, too.” He gives them a casual wave and forces himself to saunter out instead of pelting headlong back to the dorms. He’s in a much thornier mood now than he was before he met these other Lions, and he’s not sure why, but he tries to push it to the back of his mind.

Ingrid watches him go with raised eyebrows, before turning to Mercedes. “So that’s the Claude we’ve heard so much about. He...isn’t what I was expecting."

"Hm? How so?" Mercedes doesn't seem so perturbed; her expression appears just as serene as ever, really.

”I suppose I expected someone...warmer?” Ingrid shrugs a little. “His Highness always made him sound like such an _experience_ , you know? But then again, we are strangers to him.”

"Yes, from what Dimitri has told me, he probably just won't open up yet. You were similar when I first met you after all." Mercedes says this so brightly, too.

”Me?” Ingrid's face falls in dismay for a moment, before firming up in protest— “N-no I wasn’t! I’m very warm! It’s just that I need to maintain a certain formality with His Highness, that’s all. Claude was anything _but_ formal.” Her tone is tinged with the slightest bit of reproach for him.

"Well, the Alliance is structured differently, yes? I've been lucky to meet some of the other Golden Deer too, and they all seem quite relaxed, at least compared to us. Maybe we could hope to learn a thing or two from them." Her smile widens.

”That’s all well and good for them, but I’m sorry, Mercedes - if I’m to be a knight in His Highness’ service, there’s protocol that must be observed.”

Mercedes hums a bit and bows her head in farewell, briefly. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen, okay? I think Dimitri would enjoy some spiced cookies today."

Ingrid nods. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

It doesn’t take Claude long to return to the dorms, but by the time he gets there he finds himself feeling weirdly nervous. Which is silly, he tells himself - this is _Dimitri_ , who has promised that nothing will ever change between them, who snuck messages to him when they were too private to send by ordinary messenger...surely it will be fine. He finds the door Mercedes indicated and takes a moment to collect himself, and then...knocks.

There's silence on the other side, a few beats of soft rustling, the pad of footsteps across the floor. In Claude's mind he's replaying the first time they met in person all over again in these few seconds. Will it be like that again? Or will it be like no time has passed at all? Or--

The door cracks just slightly and out pokes...

"I was wondering when you--" After a moment, Dimitri sees him, _truly_ sees him... and freezes, breath caught in his throat and eyes blown wide. Without meaning to, probably, the door inches open further; he wears his house leader regalia, though without all of its finer trappings. "Claude?" _Is this real?_ "You're here?" he asks, nearly a croak, and the smile that pulls at his lips--a slow blossom of a grin that makes the darkness under his eyes stand in stark contrast--is breathless, disbelieving. "You're...!"

 _...oh._ Oh, Claude wasn't prepared, after all. Not for the overwhelming urge to throw his arms around Dimitri and not for...well, for Dimitri himself. He was taller than Claude before, but now it seems more pronounced, and he's...broader, too, and his jaw is more defined, and his voice sounds...recognizable, for sure, but _different_.

But Claude's better now at covering it up when he's unprepared, so he's only staring wide-eyed at the prince for a second or two before his smile kicks in and he says, "Hey, Mitya." And as the name comes out of his mouth, the smile abruptly widens and becomes genuine, if a bit disbelieving himself. "Can I come in?" No need to embarrass himself by getting touchy-feely in the hall with a bunch of strangers potentially walking by at any moment. He notices the signs that Dimitri hasn't been sleeping and has probably been fiddling with his hair, but he can't really register them yet.

"O-of course!" As if Dimitri's room isn't a mess. As if he cares. He steps aside and opens the door wider for Claude, cringing just slightly when the clutter on his desk and shelves sees the light of day spilling in from the hall. "I-- had no idea you would be coming so soon! I suppose you intended it to be a surprise?" He's still grinning like mad, though, light and relieved in ways he hasn't felt for... well, since leaving Derdriu, really. He's quick to shut the door behind Claude, and stands there, fiddling briefly with his braid, in a moment of indecision.

Claude steps inside and looks around for a moment. He barely spent much time in his own room, just long enough to change his clothes and note that the bedspread was color-coded for him. Dimitri's is, too, but Claude notices right away that it's not _quite_ the right shade of blue...not like the one he's got stashed away in the wooden chest in his room at Riegan manor. It's also a little dim in here. Maybe the prince was taking a nap?

"A surprise? The last letter I got from you said you were leaving Fhirdiad, how would I have told you? Besides..." Claude tries to make his next words sound nonchalant. "Why would I sit around in Derdriu knowing you were already here?" The urge to hug Dimitri hasn't gone away, but now that he's here he's not sure how exactly to...go about that? He hasn't actually hugged anyone other than Hilda since he last saw the prince, and her hugs are quick, casual things. Not like...well, there's really nothing casual about Dimitri at all.

"Ah, I. No, I suppose that's true." Dimitri's gaze drifts as Claude's does, though he's quick to force his attention back to the other boy. Claude's changed in so many ways and hasn't changed at all in others, and the prince doesn't really know what he expected, but-- he isn't complaining, not one bit.

"Not that I don't intend to surprise you whenever I can, now that we're here." Claude grins. "I bet you still make the same face when you're surprised." Only his face is less round and more...well, anyway.

Dimitri steps forward, and stops again, pinching the tail of his braid between his fingers. "Claude, may I hug you?" Maybe they aren't exactly where they left off, if he has to ask; he assumes that, like himself, Claude has had to change himself over the years, erect new boundaries, adapt... he doesn't want to push him on an assumption.

It's only with that hesitant step that Claude realizes he's not the only one having some trouble figuring out where to go from here, and he can't help chuckling at the realization. That, and at the question itself--it's a relief to know that some things haven't changed at all. "I'm glad you asked, because I was wondering the same thing." He opens his arms to invite Dimitri to finish the movement he started.

In that moment of relief, Dimitri doesn't hesitate. He rushes forward and wraps Claude in his embrace, even lifts him from the floor in his excitement—and quickly sets him down again, once he remembers how careful he ought to be, especially now, in how tightly he holds him. "Sorry, I just, seeing you again--" It almost doesn't feel real, and a part of him fears it, but Dimitri will believe it if he can be this happy for even a short while...

"Oof--" But Claude's laughing, even though Dimitri really _is_ squeezing a little too tightly; he doesn't even care, squeezing back as hard as he can. Here with Dimitri, he could almost believe all that time hasn't passed, that all the loneliness and frustration and fear of the last three years have been erased and forgotten. At the very least, he can put them aside for now, in the privacy of Dimitri's room.

Dimitri hugs him again, gentler now, and comes to rest his chin on Claude's shoulder. "Goddess, I've missed you so much..."

Claude settles into the second embrace comfortably, though it's still different in a way he can't--or is maybe afraid to, maybe refuses to--put his finger on. "I missed you too, Mitya." It's quiet. From here, he gives Dimitri's hair a closer, more evaluative look. _Yeah, he's been messing with it. What's the matter?_ "Your hair is a mess," he teases gently. "I'll--I mean...would you mind if I fixed it?"

 _Is it?_ Dimitri pulls away enough to reach up with a hand-- oh, his gloves are missing. "I... haven't brushed it yet today. But I could never say no to you." He's loathe to let go of Claude (his other hand hasn't left his back in all this time) but he quickly crosses the room to fetch his brush, glances at the bed briefly, before sitting on the floor in front of it. "I will admit that I was a little hesitant to grow it out so long, but I quite like how it looks... when I, ah, actually take care of it."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, because I can take care of it for you." Claude sits on the bed behind Dimitri and takes the brush, before carefully undoing the existing braid and starting to brush it through. "I like it too." It's odd to realize that he's already fallen back into old habits, like wanting to go out of his way to make Dimitri happy, to see him smile. Or perhaps what's odd to realize is that he _doesn't_ do that with anyone else.

For once, he hesitates to ask all the questions he has, now that they're here; it'll bring up all kinds of things he's sure will upset Dimitri. So he starts with, "I swung by your classroom looking for you, and I met Ingrid. And someone named Mercedes? Who has apparently heard all about me." His tone is casual, even a little teasing at the end there, but those weird feelings are fighting to bring his mood down again.

"Oh, yes." The brushing is so nice that if Dimitri really were tired, he could probably fall asleep, right here and now... "It was years ago, but... do you remember when I told you that Rodrigue was traveling? Trying to find remedies for... well, Mercedes and her mother came from a church in western Faerghus, excellent healers. They heeded Rodrigue's request to return to the palace and aid me in my recovery... she helped me with my meditations at first, and administering my medication--" He lifts his hands, scars visible in the low-ish light of his room, to emphasize. "But she also likes to cook, as well, and so when she saw your recipe book in my room, and I explained it to her... she was quite taken with the idea. She has been cooking your recipes for me when the kitchen staff won't." Claude's fingers in his hair... Dimitri closes his eyes, leans back against that touch, without an ounce of shame. "I promise, I told her nothing she oughtn't know, but... I will admit that I came to confide in her quite often, when I couldn't write to you."

Claude tries hard to be glad about all this--to be grateful that Dimitri had someone like Mercedes around to help him. He really tries, and on some level, he is. But he can feel the selfish thoughts rise inside him like a slow simmer. Dimitri must have told Mercedes about what happened at his maiden battle, of course, and it sounds like he told her about his taste problem, too...things Claude had gotten used to being the only one the prince confided in about. It's stupid, he tells himself, to have these thoughts--he wasn't _there_ \--but he can't crush them. So he tries to do the next best thing and push them down, just like all the other feelings he's learned to bottle up and ignore.

It helps when he notices Dimitri leaning his head back against his fingers as he runs them through the fine blond hair, searching for remaining tangles. _This is...nice._ "Oh yeah, speaking of which--she asked me to bring your medicines to you." He pauses for a moment to dig the vials out of his pocket and hand them to the prince. "I didn't get much of a chance to talk to them, though, uh...I kind of ran off as soon as they told me where you were." A bit sheepish, as he runs his fingers through Dimitri's hair one more time and then begins to gather it up and braid it carefully.

Dimitri starts a little, when he hears the vials, but then realizes. "Oh, I suppose it is nearing that time of day." He carefully cradles them in his palms, lowering them into his lap to sort through... yes, this is all of them. "Were I in your position, the moment I heard you were here, I would probably have run off too. I'm glad you did, because I-- well, I was about to leave again, and I don't know when I would have been returning to the monastery." It's calming, finding paths through the forest to wander down the mountain along... even if nearly all of his friends have gotten on his case about vanishing without notice. "I... hate to burden you, knowing that you only arrived a short time ago, but would you be willing to help me with my medicine, then?"

"Of course. I _told_ you, Mitya, it's never a burden." But Claude's glad Dimitri can't see his face right now, because for a moment he's sure the vague, foreboding panic is obvious in his expression. "You're leaving the monastery? Didn't you just get here? Where are you going?"

"Not... _leaving_ leaving. In the days that I've been here, since the school year hasn't begun just yet, I've been... well, walking. Through the forest around the monastery. It isn't easy to get lost, but it _is_ easy to lose oneself in there, I suppose. It's... helped calm me. Perhaps we can both go, sometime."

"Oh! Whew. Don't scare me like that!" Claude finishes up the braid, tucking the ends neatly into their hair tie, and then hops off the bed to sit on the floor facing Dimitri instead, to help with his hands. "Yeah, I'd like that. I haven't had much of a chance to just...take walks, lately. Or climb trees, or nap outside. ;)"

"Well, the year won't be starting for... another few weeks now, yes? They're still waiting on quite a few students to arrive; most of the noble families sent their children unusually early, they said." Dimitri presents his hands, and he can't help but wonder when the last time came that he could let someone see the scars on his skin without so much as flinching. "I can show you around, as well. I know you will love the library, Claude."

Claude takes the vials and prepares them with practiced efficiency, barely needing to take a second to remember how. "I was hoping you'd say that." He takes one of Dimitri's hands gently in his own and begins to apply the medicine, slowly rubbing the ointment in. Like this, it really does feel like nothing has changed, at least for this moment. "And I for one am glad we all came early. I didn't really want to spend another minute in Derdriu." 

"Have you anticipated coming here that greatly?" _Or have the circumstances in Derdriu deteriorated so severely that he couldn't wait to get away?_ Dimitri doesn't let himself linger, though.

"Heh, I guess I have." Claude turns Dimitri's hand over to work on the palm. "I'm grateful to have Judith on my side, but sometimes it seems like she's the only one. Some days, the hill I'm climbing just feels so steep, and all the other nobles are standing at the top rolling stones down the slope." Then he smiles; it's a bit forced, but Dimitri doesn't notice. "But I don't have to worry about any of that right now." That's a note that makes Dimitri glad to hear, and one he intends to focus on, for the both of them. No wonder Claude was so anxious to get out of Derdriu, though... were he not still working, Dimitri would've held his hands.

Claude goes on, "I know what I said about competing with you being fun, and it will be, but right now I do wish we could be in the same class." _So I wouldn't have to let you out of my sight._

"Mm, I feel the same. From what I have been able to glean, there will indeed be several areas in which our houses will be competing, but for most of the year? I was speaking with two of our professors for the year, and they stated that sometimes, houses will collaborate quite thoroughly for some assignments."

Claude comes to the bottom of Dimitri's palm and--knowing the scars don't quite end there--pushes his sleeve up a few inches. "That's great news. I--" He falls still and silent, swallowing his own words at the sight of the bracelet around the prince's wrist. Blue and gold cords, entwined. He doesn't run his fingers over it, not wanting to get ointment on it, but...he looks like he would have otherwise. "Hey, look at that," he says softly.

Dimitri doesn't understand why he stopped for a moment, until-- "Oh. Does it surprise you?" That sheepish smile returns to Dimitri's face and he looks, too, to the bracelet on his wrist, watching the little griffon pendant dangle down. "I take it off for battle... I couldn't bear it if I were to lose it. But all other times, I wear it, when I can."

"Not surprise, just..." _Relief?_ "I'm glad, that's all. I'd show you mine, but--" Claude holds his hands up and wiggles his fingers, grinning. "When I'm finished."

"Ah, but of course." Dimitri is suddenly aware, too, of the necklace under his tunic; he wears it so often that, after all this time, he usually doesn't feel it at all.

Claude moves to Dimitri's other hand and finishes up with some haste, though still just as thorough; now that Dimitri's brought up the idea of showing him around the monastery, he wants to get to it. Once he's done, he accepts a cloth from the prince to wipe his hands with and then stands, stretching with a brief yawn. "I hope you've been getting more sleep lately than I have." He keeps it light, but this is his way of asking why Dimitri looks so tired.

It's a relief for Dimitri once Claude's finished with his hands. It's easier to still himself now, without his hands aching so... He stands as well, flexing briefly into a stretch, and then roaming about his room gathering what he needs to make his uniform proper—and after he's clasped his cape to his shoulder and settled into his boots, he begins to put on his gauntlets. "Admittedly, not quite. It isn't cold enough here to remind me of home, nor warm enough to remind me of Derdriu... I haven't yet adjusted to this place, I suppose."

 _Does he just...wear armor all the time now? Huh._ "It _is_ a little chilly for me here." Claude sobers a bit. "Are you still having nightmares?"

"I am." Dimitri's smile strains a little, but it isn't as if Claude doesn't know how he suffers already. "It... has not lessened since arriving here, not really."

Claude nods, understanding. "Well, now my room is just two doors down again." He smiles too, lest Dimitri think helping him with this would also be a burden.

"Really?" But it makes sense. Dimitri was told they house nobles on the upper floor this year, after a few complaints... he smiles and moves to the door, though not before taking up his sword and sheath from beside the desk and securing it at his hip. "Right then. Your tour—we can also have lunch, should you ever catch an appetite." He beckons to the hall once he's opened the door for Claude.

It's strange, Claude thinks as he heads out into the hall, to feel like the natural thing to do would be to take Dimitri's hand as they walk. But that's...not something people _actually_ normally do in Fodlan, as far as Claude can tell from three more years of interacting with them in the Alliance. And no one else here at the monastery knows him, and...who knows what their reactions would be, what they would think of him? And maybe Dimitri's grown out of that sort of thing anyway. So he doesn't take it, though his gaze flickers briefly down to Dimitri's gloved hand as he closes the door behind them. "Lunch sounds great. Where to first?"

Dimitri doesn't escape the urge to take the other boy's hand, either. Years of habit almost come crashing down on him, but Dimitri is quick to think that it... may be for the best to refrain. It doesn't change that he still wishes to. He has a feeling that thought will nag at him for some time. "You said you've seen the classrooms, correct?"

"Right. I made a beeline for your classroom. I guess I...really should have greeted my own class, huh? Well, they're not going anywhere." Claude shrugs.

"If you went nowhere else, then there's still roughly half of the monastery for you to see... the reception hall, the cathedral, the dining hall, if you haven't been... it's all quite interconnected." First, though, the prince leads Claude down to the fishing pond and the greenhouse, pointing out some of the other students and faculty he's become familiar with along the way. By the time they're circling back from the marketplace, the prince seems somewhat less... willing, to entertain so many greetings and so much small talk; it takes a great deal of willpower not to merely take Claude by the arm and hurry up the stairs to the dining hall.

Strolling around the grounds with Dimitri is such a breath of fresh air compared to the way things have been for Claude for the past three years, but as soon as they're out in the open where other people start greeting them and watching them and paying attention, his smiles become less genuine and his demeanor becomes more distant; more the mysterious, untrustworthy Claude that the Alliance nobles know. Still, he enjoys himself, and when he notices Dimitri getting sick of all the attention he starts to step in with various excuses and tactics to get people to leave the prince alone faster.

"Ah, and... this of course is the dining hall. They're open most of the day, and even allow students to cook when they wish, if they can provide ingredients." The look on Dimitri's face, the twinkle in his eye, is knowing.

"Is that so?" Claude looks up at Dimitri and grins. "I could be persuaded to give that a shot." He can't deny that he's pretty hungry by the time they get there, so the smells are inviting and he strolls in with interest.

"Really now? I hardly thought it would take any persuading... right now, though, is quite the busy time. We should get something to eat, and perhaps next time we will be able to cook our own meals." More like Dimitri watching as Claude works. The prince is just as likely to break any utensil he touches even if he had any inkling of where to begin cooking.

It's good fortune that they manage to find a peaceful place to eat, not in the dining hall but outside, in one of several little alcoves hidden around the monastery yard that Dimitri has discovered. This one, though, is probably the most comfortable he's found, blocked in by high hedges, with a few little tea tables to gather at, and shade if you come at just the right time of day. Dimitri claims one table for them, and tucks into his food eagerly. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand. Even after the days I've been here, I still feel tense here, but... are you feeling alright, Claude?" Asked quietly, very quietly, a habit from their childhood, perhaps.

Claude's hungry enough that he piles food onto his plate in slightly haphazard fashion, and eats with gusto once they sit down. At the question though, he pauses. "What do you mean?" He speaks equally quietly.

"You said that you haven't been sleeping much... and from what you said earlier, about how it's been in Derdriu for you lately, I... you know." When Dimitri sips his tea, the cup clinks softly against his gauntlet. This is making him more upset than he thought... "I wanted to make sure—that you're okay."

Claude would probably never admit it, but gods, he missed this. He missed having someone around who legitimately cares how he's getting along, not because he's the future duke, or because they want something from him, or because they pity him, but just...because they care. Dimitri _cares_. Claude missed hearing someone say things that make him feel like he matters on his own merits, that just being Claude is enough and there are no preconceptions to fight. He smiles and, before he can think to stop himself, reaches across the table to take the hand Dimitri's not using to hold his teacup. "Now that I get to spend time with you again, I'll be fine." He doesn't let go just yet, as some concern seeps into his expression. "But I could ask you the same thing. Your last letter wasn't very reassuring. In fact, several of your letters weren't. Are _you_ okay?"

Dimitri's surprised, clear from the look on his face, but he squeezes that hand readily. He doesn't want to divulge some of this... he doesn't want Claude to worry. But he'll worry anyway, and the prince would rather be truthful in the interim, as much as he can be. Dimitri sighs quietly. "There are rumors," he starts, rockily, "circulating the capital about... my uncle supposedly having been involved with the incident in Duscur. That, alongside the rebellions we've yet to quell in the west, are..." His eyes grow distant, gazing down at the table emptily, though he's cognizant enough not to squeeze Claude's hand too tightly now, even when he grips harder. "These past months have been a great burden to bear... what you said, about the noblemen in your country, I almost feel the same. I have Rodrigue, and he has been my most steadfast supporter... but even my own friends, Sylvain, Ingrid... Felix—I feel as though I can tell them none of this. Even now they keep their distance from me, and you have yet again become the sole person who understands me."

Claude frowns, listening. He doesn't like that empty look in Dimitri's eyes. "Do you put any stock in these rumors?" He's already heard something like this from Rodrigue, in his last letter, but there doesn't seem to be any evidence yet to prove or disprove anything. With what Claude's heard about Dimitri's uncle, and from the brief time they met, he supposes he wouldn't be _too_ surprised...the man certainly had reason, but-- But if his aim was to secure the throne for himself as regent, he wouldn't want to just give it up to Dimitri a few years later.

"I don't know. As I've gotten older..." Logic would dictate Dimitri shouldn't air this out in the open. But he doesn't know how long he can keep all of these thoughts to himself without getting overwhelmed. "I will admit that I haven't known my uncle very well until quite recently, with the amount of time we've spent together over the past year or so, but he doesn't seem the kind. A manipulator, I mean. He hasn't done anything particularly radical with his station... as a matter of fact, he's hardly done anything at all. And even still, he and my father were on good terms in my childhood. I can't disprove them, but I hardly believe them."

While it's true that Dimitri sometimes trusts too easily, this is a logical argument, and makes more sense than the alternative unless the man really has a convoluted scheme--which, from what the prince has said, Claude doubts. He nods, relieved. "Good. To be honest, with everything that's going on, I'm thankful he and Rodrigue still let you come here. On the other hand, it's probably much safer for you here than in Fhirdiad." He squeezes Dimitri's hand one more time and pulls back, continuing to eat now.

"It probably is. Rodrigue has been concerned for me as well, lately. I hate to worry him..." Dimitri also knows his uncle is expecting him to dive headfirst into politics from this point, so he wouldn't be surprised if Rufus wished for Dimitri to forge as many connections here as possible... he'd rather not dwell on that line of thought.

Claude makes a mental note to reassure Rodrigue in his next letter that he's got Dimitri's back here, and can't help wondering just how secure the monastery is against assassins and spies. They could be _part_ of the Church for all he knows. Well, if so, that would be nothing new, he supposes. "...and as long as I'm being honest..." He sighs. "I feel pretty tense here, too. The nobles in Leicester have to at least feign some modicum of respect for me, given my position and theirs. Here, it's another story; I'm just another student."

"I'm... hoping we don't have a repeat of our visit to the beach," comes the prince's murmur, and his free hand tightens into a fist over the table. "I've said it many times, and I will continue to say it: yours are aspirations that speak for themselves. If your kindness and competence aren't enough of a draw, then they know not what they're missing."

"...thanks, Mitya. Fortunately, I've come a long way since then in learning how to pretend it doesn't bother me." It's rueful, not too heavy; he's trying not to drag the mood down further. "Do you want to come with me to meet the other Deer after this, and then go to the library? I have a feeling once we get there, we won't leave for a while. ;)"

 _He shouldn't have to pretend anything._ That's the first thought that comes to Dimitri's mind. _It isn't something he should have to face at all._ "I would love to," he concedes with a smile. "I've spent a considerable amount of time in the library since I arrived, I'll admit... I've even seen some volumes I've never heard of before. I would be glad to show you."

"Then let's finish up and get going!" Claude eats quickly, then. It's almost like he's back in Derdriu, once again trying not to think about how a year isn't very long at all...best to do as much as they can together in the time they have.


	3. Garreg Mach: Ancient History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri has the unfortunate experience of meeting Lorenz before he takes Claude to the library to show him the wealth of ancient knowledge it holds. By the time they're finished, Dimitri's ready to unveil his surprise for Claude...

The weather may be a bit overcast, but that doesn't stop Lorenz from taking his tea outside and going on a lovely stroll. This year holds so much promise for him. He'll learn many things, make his name known, meet lots of potential brides...the one blemish on this otherwise perfect year is that he isn't house leader. He _should_ be, by all rights--his father was, when he was here, and there's no reason in the world a Gloucester shouldn't be now. Unfortunately...

...ah. The moment Lorenz walks into the Golden Deer classroom, there's that 'unfortunately' right in front of him. "Oh. _You've_ arrived."

Dimitri keeps telling himself that he has no reason to be nervous. These are Claude's classmates, his people – hopefully his friends, eventually, because they'll surely be his comrades. (Even if his mind is quick to remind him that Claude doesn't know these people, regardless of them being his classmates. And even if his mind tells him they won't understand Claude, won't appreciate him even a fraction of how he deserves to be appreciated, and it's enough to keep Dimitri a little on edge for the duration of his visit, losing out only to his desire to make a good impression on the Golden Deer.) It's at that moment, when Dimitri finds himself choking back his frustrations and struggling to do so, that Lorenz walks in. He's never met the boy, doesn't recognize him by looks alone... he glances between him and Claude with a question in his eyes.

 _Oh, great. Just what I need on my first day here._ But Claude turns with a friendly smile. "Hey, if it isn't Lorenz. Dimitri, this is Lorenz Gloucester, heir to Count Gloucester of the Leicester Alliance."

"Lorenz _Hellman_ Gloucester, thank you very much!"

 _Ah._ And now Dimitri has just enough context to understand every single thing he's been told about this boy. He straightens his posture just slightly; this is the first time today he's adopted what Claude always called his Regal Face. "I've heard a great deal about you, Master Gloucester. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, of Faerghus—the pleasure is mine."

Lorenz's eyes go wide with recognition as he turns to Dimitri. "Oh! You're Prince Dimitri! How wonderful it is to meet a royal personage such as yourself. I have, of course, heard many glowing tales of the esteemed Blaiddyd line and the noble countenance of its scions--and, meeting you, I can say with absolute certainty that they are all true." Then he visibly preens. "That you have likewise heard accounts of my extraordinary talent and leadership abilities speaks well of both of us, wouldn't you say?"

Claude's used to this--or at least, he used to be. For the entire year Dimitri spent in Derdriu, he could never quite shake the feeling that the prince belonged more than he did; that people were happier to see the heir to another land's throne than their own future leader. He's not surprised to find that's still true. In the past, he's found dealing with the Gloucester heir to be easiest when he cranks up the sarcasm and needles Lorenz until he gets fed up and storms off. But this time, Claude keeps quiet, letting Dimitri take over for now. He is, after all, the one being engaged in actual conversation.

"Please, you're too kind." This is the best Dimitri's kept up the façade all day; his smile never once wavers, not even for a moment, even when his internal reaction is so suddenly violent as to be shocking, almost. "It would seem that reputations once again precede, though I humbly ask your forgiveness. Claude here was aiding me in finding Catherine—I wished to speak to her regarding our training regimens in the upcoming semester, though she's been quite elusive today... you wouldn't happen to have spotted her, would you?"

"Ah...no, I do not believe I have seen her. But, if you like, I could accompany you to the knights' hall. Few here are possessed of such sparkling conversation and rapier wit as I, ha!" Lorenz barely glances at Claude. "Perhaps Claude here has beguiled you with his silver tongue, but I have seen through his little act and I assure you, he is _always_ up to something."

A flippant response comes to mind immediately, but Claude bites his tongue again. Dimitri seems to be handling this with aplomb, and although he knows he'll have to say something at some point so that Lorenz doesn't accuse him of hiding behind the 'poor innocent deluded prince,' doing so at just this moment seems like bad timing that will only serve to further convince Lorenz that he's right.

"Always, you say?" There's humor in Dimitri's smile when he turns to Claude, but strain in his gaze. It's taking everything he has in him not to unleash on Lorenz. Getting into fights–-no, beating another student to a pulp--would not do for his first days here.

Claude spreads his hands; the smirk he turns to Dimitri is both mirthful and impressed. "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid, Your Princeliness. Having a pleasant afternoon was just the first step in my latest dastardly scheme."

"In any case," Dimitri goes on, "I apologize, but it was more meant to be a discussion between house leaders. Lady Edelgard awaits us for tea; we had intended to invite Ser Catherine for our discussion, but have come up short in finding her as of yet. We ought to continue... though I would be indebted to you if you were to inform her of our request, should you happen to see her before we do." The prince cocks a subtle brow, and dips his head ever so slightly.

Lorenz shoots Claude a suspicious glare, but Dimitri's words catch his attention and he pales, speechless for a moment in his utter indignation - house leaders indeed! as though Lorenz Hellman Gloucester were some errand boy to deliver messages! - but unwilling to lose his temper with the Prince of Faerghus. Eventually he manages, "I-I see. Ah. Yes, of course, I...shall be certain to do so. ...good day, Prince Dimitri." He gives the prince a hurried, but still extremely formal, little bow before he strides out of the classroom.

"Good day, Master Gloucester, and thank you again." That detached, regal composure remains until Lorenz has left the room; Dimitri is suddenly aware of eyes on him, though doesn't stop to look around the classroom any longer. "Come, Claude. We ought to continue our search." For Catherine. Yes... Dimitri nods to him and turns on his heel, shoulders stiffening as he exits the classroom.

Claude turns and shrugs at the others. "You heard the man. Gotta go. I'll catch up with you all later." He gives them a little half-wave, half-salute, and strolls out.

Dimitri doesn't slow down for some time. It isn't until they've returned to the courtyard, sheltered once more by hedges and stone walls, that the prince allows his composure to finally crumble away and he's left leaning over one of the stone tea tables, hands clenched into fists atop it. "Of all the unbearable, conceited, _insolent--_ "

”Mitya, it’s okay.” Claude speaks quietly, much more quietly than Dimitri. “I know you’re going to say it’s not, but this isn’t new and it isn’t going to be just Lorenz. You can’t fly off the handle every time someone says something like that, you’ll never know peace.”

"Have you ever known me to sit idly by as you are insulted?" Dimitri glances at him over his shoulder, only to avert his gaze quickly. His thoughts, they're racing. "If I may never know peace, so be it—you may think otherwise, Claude, but I am not so forgiving a person, not when it is you. You deserve better than this." Against the table, his gauntlets creak. He'll lose his temper, and do something he'll regret... Dimitri huffs and brushes the hair from his eyes, with more force than necessary. "I am not patient, and I am not kind. Not kind enough to forgive when you are degraded to your face."

Claude almost argues - Dimitri, not kind? that's blatantly untrue - but he remembers the few times when Dimitri lost his temper, back in Fhirdiad, and in Derdriu. Remembers getting curious about this other Dimitri hiding in there. That brief glimpse he got of the prince's eyes just now tells him that Dimitri is in no mood for an argument, anyway; and that might not deter Claude under some circumstances, but he doesn't want to upset Dimitri _more_. So he sighs, and nods, accepting this for what it is. "You know how much I appreciate your support. I just don't want you to get in trouble or burn bridges because of me."

"For anyone who should treat you in such a way, there existed no such _bridge_ to begin with." Tempering his anger now only serves to make Dimitri look and sound tired. How exhausted his eyes look, once the anger has faded from them... he sits, and falls quiet, fingers clenching and unfurling atop the table. "...I apologize. You're right. I-- know that I shouldn't. But you are the person I care for most in this world. I can't bear such things so easily."

 _Oh. It's another one of those 'did Dimitri really say that?' moments._ Claude swallows, fighting back a blush and a disbelieving reaction he doesn't want Dimitri to see, before he comes to sit down beside the prince and take his hand between both of his own. "Hey, it's okay. If you could, you wouldn't be Dimitri. And I happen to like Dimitri exactly as he is." He smiles.

Dimitri does his best to muster a smile, even if it pales in comparison to Claude's... and it's comforting, touching him again after having spent most of their reunion thus far hovering apart from one another. "Even now, you brighten my days so effortlessly. I've not a clue how I ever went without you."

"I could say the same thing about you." Claude knows the answer, of course - his walls are thick and sturdy now, his wits honed to a razor-sharp edge to keep one step ahead of everyone, his mask almost flawless - but how much of all that is really Claude, in the end?

Dimitri takes a deep breath, followed by a deeper sigh; he never intended to derail their afternoon... "... if you're willing, there is something else I wished to show you. But it won't be ready for some few hours, here."

"Of course - as usual, I want to see everything." Claude grins a bit. "We can spend those few hours in the library, if you want. I somehow doubt that we'll be running into Lorenz there."

A nod from Dimitri. "Yes, that's fine. I'll have to stop by my room first, on our way from the library, but it won't take long." Speaking of, though—Dimitri rises, and relishes briefly in Claude's hands around his, knowing they won't be, for much longer. "I say it's time you and I took a breather, yes? We can head to the library now, if it suits you."

"That suits me just fine." Claude stands too, giving Dimitri's hand a final squeeze before he lets go, then making an exaggerated bow and gesturing with an arm. "After you."

On the way there, they stop briefly to chat with one of the professors in the hall before continuing past the faculty offices. Meeting Professor Manuela certainly is...an experience, Claude thinks, wondering how Dimitri's managing not to react at all to her obvious and sort of creepy flirting. Claude manages to get out of there without agreeing to have tea with her, and upon learning she's the physician, makes plans to never get sick or hurt while he's here. Ever.

It's a short trek from there to the library, where Dimitri pushes open the door and holds it there for Claude to enter. "And here we are. There are staff members here most of the day, outside of late nights, from what I've noticed." One of the nuns gives the prince a polite wave on her way out, one he returns readily. "While they do allow you to check out some of the books, I actually quite enjoy staying here to read. It's always so nice and quiet..."

"Sounds like you spend a lot of time here. I can see why!" It's not as big as the central library in Derdriu, of course, but for a single room it's enormous, and packed with books from floor to very tall ceiling. "Show me all your favorite sections. I bet there's a ton on the Church's history, right? Is there anything about Old Faerghus, or places outside Fodlan?"

"I'll admit I haven't been able to be so thorough in my search yet. Mercedes has done what she can to keep me from, ah... holing up here." But Dimitri moves with certainty, to a shelf near the corner where he picks out volumes without needing to search for even a moment. When he leads Claude to a table, the first book he cracks open is adorned with brilliant illuminated manuscripts spanning entire pages, and this particular page... "Look, Claude—the Wolf Lords of Faerghus." How Dimitri's eyes shine. "The Lioness, the first tales of Loog and his companions, it's all here..."

"Whoa..." Claude leans closer to take in the beautiful illustrations and gold-foil calligraphy. "This is amazing! If they have a book like this, they could have _anything_." He flips a few pages, resting his chin in one hand while he skims them.

"Mm." At this point, is Dimitri even looking at the book? He mirrors Claude's pose and wonders how often they'll be able to get away with this, once the school year starts. "I haven't yet looked for any books regarding the church, but what bits I _have_ found of our history have all been... quite enlightening." He waits until he can tell that Claude has finished, before gingerly taking over to flip some pages further in... he stops on a depiction of Loog, stood by his throne, upon which sits-- "Do you know who that is, Claude?"

"Hmm..." Claude stops skimming and starts trying to read in earnest, although what little he managed to learn of Old Faerghan from Dimitri a few years ago is rusty at best. "...sorry. The best I've got is that I recognized the words for 'king' and 'day.' So, no idea."

The prince smiles. His voice is low, melodic, as his eyes roam the page: "'Be it under the cold of our moon, or the blistering day of the southlands, he stands beside me unfettered and dauntless'... 'his light shines wheresoever my shadow may cast itself, his kindness thaws the bitter cold of home within me'... 'even should Pan himself wish for nothing, not the praises of our people or the fear of our enemies, to him I would give the whole of my world, that he might have everything for but a moment'..."

Claude fully intends to listen to the actual words Dimitri's saying--and he does--but it's much harder than it should have been. Dimitri's voice was pleasant when he was younger, sure, but now it's...frankly, hypnotizing. _Wow, Claude, what? Focus._

By the end of the passage, he's smiling with a bit of a faraway look on his face. "That's beautiful. I remember, you said Pan always stayed out of the spotlight, right? That's why there's so little written about him. But it looks like maybe Loog wanted to change that. And hey, you were right - they _definitely_ were close."

"It would appear so. But..." Even with his gauntlets, Dimitri's touch is so careful when he drags his fingers across the page, barely touching. "I have found nothing that indicates Pan... reciprocated. It's known that he died quite young, survived by his sister's family... but there has been nothing to say he had even been aware." His finger slides upward, to the top of the passage; a date has been written here. "This date... it's after his death."

"What? No way..." Claude leans even closer to the book, as though he could somehow prove Dimitri wrong. "What a tragic story. Why did Loog wait until after Pan died to say anything? Sheesh."

"Mn... I imagine there must've been a decent reason. For all that anyone knows of Pan, he may have already given his affections to someone else. Perhaps he simply didn't return his king's feelings, or – really, I would not be surprised if _being_ his king had dissuaded Loog in the first place." Without realizing, the prince has begun tugging on his braid again. "Whatever the case, I would believe Loog cared more to extol his virtues, really, than declare any sort of intentions. You were correct in remembering that Pan was a harsh defender of his life, both personally and professionally. I can understand wanting one's beloved to be remembered fondly."

”Hey, you’re gonna undo all my hard work.” It’s teasing, but Claude reaches over to gently pull Dimitri’s braid from his grip. “Anyway, I’m sure he had his reasons, it’s just sad, you know? I’m used to these kinds of stories having a lot more epic romance and a lot less unfortunate tragedy.” He smirks; leave it to Faerghus to ruin a perfectly good love story with a depressing ending.

Dimitri is visibly startled, and it shifts quickly to embarrassment when he realizes; his gauntlets catch just slightly on his hair as he lowers his hand again. "I suppose so. Faerghus has never been one for happy endings, really, at least not our older stories." _The dream of a chivalrous knight is a death just as chivalrous, after all._ He frowns. "But, regardless, I've found a great deal of other things as well, and certainly more than enough to pass the time until tonight."

”You’ve got me curious about this mysterious surprise. So I agree, it’s your job to keep me occupied until then so the curiosity doesn’t kill me. ;)” Claude gives the book one last appreciative look and then glances over at the rest of this stack Dimitri has brought.

"Yes, yes. Of course..."

The rest is similar, more delving into the histories of Faerghus, of the Alliance, even one said to chronicle some of Adrestia's history before the appearance of Saint Seiros... by the time Dimitri is ready, it seems, they're deep in the middle of an account from Leicester, some few hundred years before the establishment of the Locket. This is more fun than Claude's had in years, he thinks, as he points out something he thinks is funny and gets to see Dimitri smile, or gently teases the prince about something his ancestors did and nudges him with an elbow, or learns something incredible and zones out for a minute thinking about it with his chin in his hands - and Dimitri lets him, without calling him lazy or a useless daydreamer...

Eventually, the prince glances toward the window, and a soft 'ah' leaves him, as he glances briefly down to commit the page number to memory. "Yes, this should be it." He stands, quick to return the books to their shelves... save for one, bound in dark leather, with its title faded from the cover. Dimitri tucks it beneath his arm and returns to Claude with a smile. "Are you ready? As I said earlier, we will have to stop by my room first."

Claude stands and stretches--wow, have they really been sitting here for hours? "Ready and willing. What's that?" He nods toward the book the prince is bringing with them.

"Part of the thing. Come on."

"Hmm, I think I like this new Mysterious Dimitri..." Claude gives him a wink as they leave the library behind.


	4. Garreg Mach: Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on, Claude," Dimitri nearly whispers. "Whether in your own room or otherwise, you ought to sleep. So should I."
> 
> Claude forces his eyes back open again, though he doesn't want to. Just enough to look Dimitri in the eye with a lazy, cheeky grin. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mitya?" In your own room or otherwise... He stretches a bit and yawns, then relents and sits up. "If you'd fallen asleep instead, I'd have let us sleep on the roof, you know." He hops up to his feet and offers a hand to help Dimitri up.
> 
> The prince takes Claude's hand readily and gets to his feet, content that, if he holds on for a little while here, maybe it isn't so odd... he's very, very careful in his descent, and makes sure to hold the window open for Claude to come in safely after him. By contrast, Claude takes the descent almost casually, and is definitely showing off when he swings back through the window. "Are you... going back to your room?" Dimitri asks hesitantly, once they're both inside and he's shut the window against the cold.
> 
> It seems to Claude to be a very good question.

Dimitri leads Claude from the library and falls back into idle conversation as they walk to the dorms, though this time talking quietly about his last conversations with Rodrigue, telling Claude of the training regimes he's been shifted to, about his progress with the sword and, yes, their attempts to commission a bow that can withstand Dimitri's strength. Claude engages in the conversation readily, in turn telling Dimitri about his own...paltry...progress with the sword, as he was told that 'any proper lord knows how to wield one, you can't impress potential suitors or duel with an axe,' and asking questions about those commission attempts, wondering if perhaps he can help--he's learned a lot about how bows in Fodlan are constructed in the past few years.

When they arrive on the upper dormitory floors, Dimitri ducks briefly inside his room, rummages for some short time, before waving Claude inside. He moves not to the bed now, but... the window, and pushes it open with ease. "Come. Follow me."

Watching Dimitri open the window, Claude's eyebrows lift. "Are my eyes deceiving me, or is His Princeliness actually venturing out a window without any convincing?"

"Oh, the things I do for you." Under Dimitri's arm now is a sizeable bundle, though he hasn't an issue in climbing out upon the ledge. He's done this before, it's clear in his lack of hesitation; he seems to find his route upward and onto the roof with little effort at all. Claude follows with ease (and a little unnecessary flair just to show off) and eyes whatever Dimitri's hiding, but waits _almost_ patiently until the prince is ready to unveil it. Dimitri does unwrap the bundle, but keeps most of it hidden; not a difficult feat to accomplish with how dark it is out here, really. He presents Claude with one of two cloaks snagged from his closet. "Here, you'll need it."

Claude takes the cloak gratefully and pulls it around himself--it really _is_ getting chilly--though he can't help a vague pang of disappointment that Dimitri just handed it to him. _He used to...well, never mind._ "Are we participating in some spooooooky ritual to raise the dead, or call down a storm, or something?" He wiggles his fingers to emphasize just how spooky it is.

"No, unfortunately. No ritual here." Dimitri dons his own cloak and sits on the roof, though he smiles, and slowly nods his head toward the sky. "We're looking up." The sky in Faerghus is clouded, always, and so even now the opportunity to see even a few is a spectacle for Dimitri... but the nighttime sky here is a vast smattering of heavenly lights and even the darkness between seems more colorful, more alive than what he last saw in Derdriu. How close he feels to it... the lights of the monastery aren't enough to dull their brilliance. "It's too dark to wander the forests at night... but not too much to enjoy this. It helped me to sleep sometimes, thinking back to stargazing with you..."

Claude sits down beside Dimitri and looks up as well. He'd been hoping the monastery would be the sort of place, up in the mountains, where the stars would look closer and more vivid, and he's glad to have his hopes confirmed. What he wouldn't give to have his telescope here... But before he gets too involved in looking at the sky, he takes a moment to look at Dimitri instead. He's spent most of the day with the prince, but here under the sky where it's just the two of them, it's hitting him all over again that Dimitri is _right here_ instead of half a continent away. He smiles, too. "I'm glad. It was never quite the same after you left."

Dimitri feels the same, really, for reasons and in ways that he can't quite put words to, not yet. When he sighs, it's terribly wistful... but he isn't finished here. Just barely, his hand trembles atop the last bundle in his lap, a velvet pouch just under the length of his own forearm. He debates, purses his lips, before Dimitri wills himself to get on with it. "Here." He offers it to Claude. "It wasn't finished in time for your birthday, but... it can mark our reunion, yes?"

Claude gives the pouch a curious look and takes it, hefting it in his hands. "Ah, now the mystery is revealed. Today was much more enjoyable than my birthday was, anyway. And this way, you can watch me open it--which is the same reason I didn't send you anything for yours. I figured it wouldn't be that much longer until I could give it to you in person." He carefully opens up the mouth of the pouch and pulls out... It's a dagger, hidden away in an ornate sheath, a decorative piece from the looks of it. It's been kept pristine in Dimitri's travels and bears, just like his previous gifts, both of their colors: Its handle is wrapped in Blaiddyd blue leather, and its pommel, cross-guard, and the inscription across its blade shine a soft gold.

"I... wanted every aspect of it to be special," Dimitri says, too softly. "I hope you like it, Claude. Happy... belated birthday."

"Oh, wow..." Claude takes his time looking over every inch of it, noting all the little details, running a thumb lightly across the inscribed words. "It's beautiful, Mitya. What does this say? I'd take a... _stab_ at translating it myself, but I'd rather know what it really says." He grins.

"I - I can't say for sure." A funny thing to do, then, if he can't even translate it, but Dimitri is quick to explain himself-- "But... it's part of a poem I first heard when my father... first took me to visit my mother's grave. It's inscribed upon the stone, there." The prince turns his eyes to the stars, and he sighs. "I can't say exactly what it means, but... I more chose it for the feeling it gave me, really."

Claude's eyes linger over the dagger for another moment before he looks up at Dimitri. "And what feeling is that?" he asks quietly.

 _What feeling..._ Dimitri tries desperately to ascribe some clear meaning or words to it, but is quickly realizing how ill-equipped he is to do so. He struggles in silence for some time, his pause extending almost into a full minute... "It's a longing of a sort I cannot describe," he answers finally, with his voice kept low. "Perhaps... knowing that responsibility, or fate, maybe, may make it impossible. But feeling it nonetheless."

Claude waits patiently during the silence, examining the dagger again to familiarize himself with it, to marvel once again at the incredible detail and thoughtfulness here. When Dimitri finally does speak, he's...really not sure what to say. This is hardly the first time the prince has ever struck him speechless with his sentiments, but it _is_ the first time he feels like he can barely even breathe for a moment with the sort of warm, fluttering panic that washes over him briefly, and...

 _And we sure are older now, aren't we?_ "I..." _Nope, I've got nothing. Come on, Claude, wake up--_ "...I don't know what to say," he eventually manages. "I love it, Mitya. Thank you."

"Always." If Dimitri notices Claude's turmoil, he says nothing, doesn't even react to it; his smile is as soft, as genuine as ever. He makes himself comfortable, drawing his knees close and leaning to pick up the book at his side as well. "If you wished to stay out here for a little while longer... I found this. A book, detailing the legends Fódlan possesses of its stars, from all three countries."

"I'll stay out here as long as you want. We could _sleep_ up here if you want." Claude's pretty sure Dimitri won't go for that--probably he'll warn that if they fell asleep on the roof they'd be likely to roll off--but it gets across what he wants to get across. He holds onto the dagger, resting in his lap, and leans his head on Dimitri's shoulder as he looks up at the sky. "Tell me about them."

How happy Dimitri is to oblige.

Hours pass once he falls into the stories. They're all quite romantic, really, even the ones that came originally from Faerghus—lovers who painted the sky with stars for one another, souls ascending to light the way for their loved ones remaining in the world, brave warriors who earned a light in the sky for every great deed and heroic feat... He continues until he can't, when the words begin to blur under the low light and his eyes grow heavy.

If Claude thought Dimitri’s voice was hypnotic before, listening to him read aloud and speak in such a fervent tone about such beautiful things...it’s like listening to music. At some point, while he’s occasionally interrupting with questions or comments, he shifts to lie down, pillowing his head on Dimitri’s lap and looking up at both the stars and the prince as he listens. By the time the prince stops, Claude’s getting tired too.

"... it astounds me, how similar they can be," Dimitri says, with every ounce of his warmth in those soft words. "How alike we all are, in spite of what we may think. I suppose this is yet another point in your favor—none of us were so different, back then..."

“That’s right...everyone looks up at the same stars and sees the same things. Beauty, hope, dreams...the vastness of everything.” Claude sighs. He hasn’t been this content, this _happy_ , since Dimitri was last in Derdriu. He could stay here forever, he thinks, really only half awake by this point.

"We're that much closer, you and I. Closer to the day that things will change." Dimitri's so hesitant, not willing to push Claude's comfort or ruin this moment, but can he be blamed when he lowers a careful hand, cards it gingerly through Claude's hair just as he used to, when they were younger? The prince smiles to himself, decides that he may be able to let himself have this, if only briefly. "It's... overwhelming to think. In a good way."

Claude's eyes slowly close; Dimitri’s hand in his hair feels so nice...he chuckles. “Remember when you said my hair was soft and that made me a rabbit?”

"I stand by that." Dimitri's mindful of his gauntlets but wonders, briefly, if he were to take them off... his hand stays in Claude's hair but the prince lets his eyes linger, traces the soft planes of the other boy's face with his gaze and thinks... "You're falling asleep... as am I."

”Uh huh.” Claude really is. It’s unclear whether he really parsed what Dimitri said or whether he was just vaguely responding to the fact that the prince spoke at all. Dimitri isn't unused to this; there were plenty of these moments, these conversations, growing up when they never wished to go to sleep, trying so hard to spend every moment they could awake and together... how his heart swells, to look down at Claude and see his contentment, his trust. 

"Come on, Claude," he nearly whispers. "Whether in your own room or otherwise, you ought to sleep. So should I."

Claude forces his eyes back open again, though he doesn't want to. Just enough to look Dimitri in the eye with a lazy, cheeky grin. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mitya?" _In your own room or otherwise..._ He stretches a bit and yawns, then relents and sits up. "If _you'd_ fallen asleep instead, I'd have let us sleep on the roof, you know." He hops up to his feet, the dagger held securely in one hand, as he offers the other to help Dimitri up.

The prince takes Claude's hand readily and gets to his feet, content that, if he holds on for a little while here, maybe it isn't so odd... he's very, very careful in his descent, and makes sure to hold the window open for Claude to come in safely after him. By contrast, Claude takes the descent almost casually, and is definitely showing off when he swings back through the window. "Are you... going back to your room?" Dimitri asks hesitantly, once they're both inside and he's shut the window against the cold.

It seems to Claude to be a very good question. On the one hand, it would hardly be strange for him to sleep here; by the time Dimitri had been in Derdriu a third of the year, they spent almost every night in one or the other of their rooms, protecting each other from nightmares. On the other hand... _no, there is no other hand._ The prince said himself that his terrible dreams haven't stopped and he's barely been sleeping; and Claude more or less admitted to a similar state of affairs. Besides, Claude knows Dimitri well enough by now to know that if he's asking this way, it probably isn't because he wants Claude to leave. It's probably because he's feeling too shy to actually ask him to stay. At least, he hopes so. "Well, I would, but--" He yawns exaggeratedly and flops backward onto Dimitri's bed, covering his eyes with the back of one hand theatrically. "I'm sooooooo sleepy. I'd never make it there. Guess I'll just have to stay here with you."

Dimitri's not going to complain, now or ever, and he readily lies himself down next to Claude. _His antics never fail to lift my spirits, hm?_ There will be no sleeping on floors or tables this time, however, not for either of them; Dimitri removes his gauntlets and gloves and kicks free of his boots, though is sure to stay as... dressed as he can while getting comfortable. "I suppose we really don't have anywhere to be for some time, so..." If Claude should happen to keep him in bed past noon, then - Oh. His face is burning. Dimitri chooses to ignore it and instead moves to slide under his blankets, holding them up for Claude, too. "Come on. I know that you'll get cold."

"See, that's another good reason for me to stay here." Claude pulls his own boots off and tosses them onto the floor, then freezes briefly as he realizes what that might sound like...well, Dimitri usually takes things at face value, so Claude hopes he doesn't read into it too much. He carefully reaches over to set the dagger on the prince's desk, then crawls under the blankets and settles in with a sigh. _It really is nice and warm here with Dimitri...as always..._ "I'm glad we both showed up early. Without classes for a little while, it'll be just like old times." Except, you know, they're older now and Dimitri said something about...longing, earlier, and he doesn't know what that means and it's warm and scary and familiar. And the minute their new classmates catch wind of how close the crafty Riegan heir is to the prince of Faerghus, they're going to start talking, like everyone always did before, like he always feared they would...but he'll cross that bridge later. For now, Dimitri's presence helps him keep his whirling thoughts at bay.

"That's what I was thinking..." What a comfort, to curl up here amidst his pillows and blankets and-- "I... almost forgot." Dimitri rolls over briefly and turns back just as fast, cradling between them a head of frizzy fluff—Ser Pan, in all of his ferociously adorable glory.

Claude's eyes widen to see the little lion again after so long. “You brought him with you.” Quiet, almost disbelieving, or wondering maybe. Then he grins. “Now you’ll have to find him a fancy throne to sit on, so he can match that picture you found.” He’s turned to face Dimitri so he could see Ser Pan...but now that he’s this close to the prince, looking into his eyes with the moonlight reflected in them, he’s starting to feel...not uncomfortable. He’d never be uncomfortable with Dimitri, nor would he ever feel unsafe. But...different. Something different. Almost like this is the first time they’re meeting all over again and he’s back to worrying what Dimitri will think—even though that’s clearly ridiculous.

"Of course I did. Did you think I could leave him alone in Fhirdiad? For a whole year?" Dimitri doesn't mention that, in the absence of Claude, Ser Pan was a decent stand-in for that sort of comforting nostalgia because, even just thinking it... he knows how that sounds. How pathetic it is. He props himself onto an elbow and leans to place the stuffy carefully on the table at the head of his bed.

"Ah, of course not! Ser Pan deserves a proper education, too. You'd better watch out, he might just steal the position of Blue Lions house leader right out from under you. ;)"

"If he should, then perhaps a class transfer is in order, hm?" The prince suppresses a yawn into his pillow, and devolves into soft laughter.

Claude chuckles. "If only..." Dimitri's yawn, suppressed or not, is contagious; Claude yawns too, and that tiredness that was taking over up on the roof is starting to creep back in.

"It's relaxing, to see you here... to know you're close," Dimitri says.

The words make Claude smile, like they always do, and he thinks he might be blushing faintly. “For me, too, with you. I almost can’t believe I just got to spend a whole day with you, and tomorrow I get to do it again, heh.”

"And the day after, and the day after still." And even when their classes begin, what's to say they can't still spend time with one another, find ways for their houses to collaborate, truly play off of one another's strengths and weaknesses as they once talked so often about? "I meant what I said, that I have no desire to compete with you... I have hopes that this year will be the year that the Lions and Deer come to know one another as allies. And as friends."

 _The day after, and the day after..._ It feels almost unreal to Claude, like he's been living somewhere dark and cold for the past few years, and now Dimitri has brought the sun. "We'll make it happen," he agrees. "In fact, once everyone arrives, we should throw a party. A getting-to-know-you sort of thing. I suppose the Black Eagles might feel left out, but from everything you've told me, I'll be glad to compete with Edelgard." Sure, maybe they were just kids at the time, but anyone who's mean to Dimitri deserves to be taken down a peg or five, in Claude's book.

"Mn, well... we ought to extend the invitation to them, at the very least. It would be rude not to, even if Edelgard herself isn't likely to attend..."

"Eh, I suppose. Why don't you think she'd come? Is she _that_ much of a killjoy?"

"She is... very serious, that's all." There's a stray curl sticking up from behind Claude's ear that Dimitri seems intent to handle, smoothing it carefully down. "She may yet... come around..."

 _So are you_ , Claude thinks, _but you know how to have fun_... When Dimitri reaches over to tuck in a lock of his hair, without his gauntlets or his gloves now, he wishes the prince would play with it like he used to...like he was almost doing on the roof...that was nice. It feels strange to _ask_ him to do it, though, so he doesn't. "As long as she doesn't start scolding you or something, I'll be civil." He yawns again...when they were younger, this is the part where he would have rested his head on Dimitri's shoulder or hugged his arm or something. But...he's not sure if he should, now. What if Dimitri got the wrong idea? He ends up just sort of hovering on the cusp of settling in to sleep without actually fully doing it, still facing the prince, no farther away but no closer either. Maybe, he hopes, Dimitri will do something and end this paralyzing uncertainty...

"I would hope not." Claude isn't the only one who's noticed this, the odd distance between them. Dimitri tries not to think too much of it, and decides that it's merely time, more than anything... he doesn't hesitate when he relaxes closer, eyes drifting away when he feels the warmth of Claude's hands beneath his own. "Claude... tell me. Is this alright?"

Relief goes through Claude and he mostly relaxes; it's followed by that odd feeling again, the feeling that they're relearning--no, that _Claude_ is relearning--how he's supposed to behave around Dimitri. But it isn't bad. Just...unfamiliar. He rarely trusts anyone else to even be in the room when he sleeps, or to be nearby with his door unlocked, much less to sleep in bed with him--he loathes being sick or injured for the same reason--but he trusts Dimitri completely; he just hasn't done this in so long. Right?

He grasps Dimitri's hands at the question, looking the prince in the eye. "Yes. It's fine--it's better than fine." He pauses. Does he sound...? "...I've missed this," he finishes quietly, almost as an amendment, although once the words are out of his mouth he's not sure they're any better. They are true, though, so he'll have to be satisfied with that much...and if the prince misunderstands them, he'll just have to...fix it.

But what a relief it is for Dimitri to hear Claude actually speak it. His content little sigh is audible in the dark of the room, and he's gentle in squeezing the other boy's hand. "As have I," he says. "I'd been afraid. I didn't wish to make you uncomfortable, or to assume... but, it's late. We ought to rest..."

"Heh...no, I get it. As usual, you're the one who's brave enough to actually say something." Claude finds himself flushing a little after he says it. Which is silly; he compliments Dimitri all the time, so what's wrong with him today? Maybe he's just tired. He does settle in now, close enough to lean his head against Dimitri's shoulder. "Yeah, rest sounds good. ...good night, Mitya."

 _Brave enough?_ Dimitri doesn't know that this is brave, not when more than anything he merely can't handle the uncertainty. But he doesn't refute it. "Sweet dreams, Claude. I will see you come morning..." And what a comfort it is, to be lulled to sleep by the softness of his breathing.


	5. Garreg Mach: An Inevitable Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For all the time Claude's spent training with Dimitri, they've never actually fought a real battle together before now. He had the prince's vague description, of course, of the way he was at his maiden battle, and he'd braced himself for the reality of it, knowing they'd be fighting alongside each other at some point at the Academy. And Claude is hardly a stranger to death; he's had to kill a man himself once before, one who had been paid to kill him first, and at the time it was shocking. But since then, he's accompanied Nader in skirmishes, watched Judith take care of raiders from the mountains, seen soldiers die.
> 
> None of that prepared him, though, for watching Dimitri--sweet, kind, shy Dimitri--jam half a spear straight through someone's neck hard enough to impale him with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the introduction of Byleth! And Dimitri failing to stop Claude and Edelgard from endlessly bickering.

When Claude first starts to wake, the first thing that occurs to him is how warm he is. Warm and comfortable...there's faint light coming in through the window...and he feels remarkably peaceful. Usually he wakes abruptly, always just a little bit on edge, but not now. He blinks his eyes open groggily and for a moment doesn't remember where he is--but the warm breath against his neck and the arms wrapped around him are quick reminders...oh. Oh, right, Dimitri cuddles in his sleep. He always has.

Claude feels a little like he never wants to move again. He certainly doesn't want to wake Dimitri up. Besides, from the angle of the sun, it's too early to be up anyway--there's no class, no training, no important brunches with important nobles to attend. He can just lie here. He sighs and closes his eyes again, absently hugging Dimitri's arms to his chest as he falls back asleep.

A little later, when Dimitri wakes, he hasn't such an easy time of that, once he's come to realize he holds Claude in his arms. He isn't upset, by any means; really, if he could lie here all day, keep Claude safe and warm and tucked away from the world, he would without a doubt.

But the other boy isn't stirring, and he's quick to realize that Claude is... holding him in return, actually, which is a thought that sparks such a violent warmth in his chest. How he adores this... Dimitri snuggles closer, the bridge of his nose nearly flat against the back of Claude's neck. Safe, and rested, and with one another, what more could he ask for?

That night and the morning that follows it are the first of many like them.

* * *

It's a few weeks until classes begin, and Claude is determined to make the most of this free time by spending as much of it as he can with Dimitri without actually alienating his own class. Hilda shows up eventually, which helps him feel more comfortable in his own classroom, and the commoner students are all nice enough. But more often than not, he spends his afternoons walking in the woods with the prince, or exploring the library with him as they read to each other, or fishing with him (and trying to get Dimitri to teach him to catch fish with his hands), or exploring Garreg Mach's little village together. Claude introduced Dimitri to Hilda, but wasn't sure exactly what they thought of each other afterward, so he didn't push them to spend time together for now (Hilda's enthusiastic "Oh, Dimitri! I've heard _all_ about you. No, really. Like, _way_ too much. You're so much taller than I expected!" didn't help).

Eventually, though, this lovely vacation has to end. All the students have arrived, and the house leaders are told they're expected to start accompanying the knights into the field just to spend some time on the march and familiarize themselves with all the places that are within a day's travel from the monastery. Claude meets Edelgard, of course, and he can't quite say he _likes_ her, but he respects her intelligence and her fire. Unfortunately, the first time she scoffs at Dimitri and puts him down for something he says, Claude immediately launches a campaign of ruthless mockery against her that, even after a fortnight or so, hasn't quite yet ended...one in which she's proving a worthy opponent.

It's on one of these little field trips with Ser Alois and a few of his men that things first start to get complicated.

Night falls, and they make camp in the woods just outside a small village--Remire, Claude remembers from the map. They've brought weapons, but they aren't expected to use them beyond training exercises. The knights have gone off to reconnoiter with a nearby Church outpost, so the students find themselves sitting by the fire eating dinner, just the three of them. Claude's seated himself close to Dimitri (and to the fire), with Edelgard facing them partway around the blaze. She keeps watching them--she's done it every time the three of them are together, since she arrived at Garreg Mach. Always watching, usually with that creepy retainer of hers. Claude sort of hates it, but he's not going to give her the satisfaction of showing her that.

"I must admit, even if our school year hasn't officially started... I've already done a great deal here that I've never experienced before," Dimitri says, as he contemplates a bite of seasoned trout. "I am greatly looking forward to this next year."

Edelgard says nothing; for a few moments, it isn't even obvious that she's listening, as she's taken to polishing the blade of her axe over eating anything more. "It will be a useful judge of battle prowess for those who will serve us in the future." Violet eyes flicker to Dimitri, and then to Claude, before falling again to the blade on her knee. "Though I would hope that, with our year starting in earnest now, the two of you will become more serious about spending your time wisely."

"Well, Princess, _I_ was hoping that by the time classes started you'd have grown a sense of humor, but it looks like you'll have to attend the remedial class on that to catch up with the rest of us." Claude smiles his meaningless smile at her and bites into his fish.

"Humor is of no use to me." She doesn't seem to notice how Dimitri's paled beside Claude, and instead lifts her weapon, inspecting it briefly against the firelight, before deeming herself satisfied and setting it aside, for now. "You may be content to waste away your days with leisure, but as the future emperor, I have more important things to worry about."

"You know," Dimitri interjects, louder than intended (loud enough to surprise himself, too), before he sinks back down and drops his gaze to his meal, smile sheepish and strained, "The Knights ought to be back soon, I would hope. It's getting quite late... they've been gone for some time already, haven't they?"

"You're right, they have. I wouldn't be surprised if they decided not to come back, lest Her Highness here scold them for their armor's lack of luster and lecture them on how to polish it properly." Claude knows Dimitri wants peace between them, but...she's so infuriating. And so much fun to poke with a figurative stick. And she chastises both of them _constantly_ \--she deserves this.

Seeing the look on Edelgard's face and anticipating the barb she's no doubt prepared on the tip of her tongue, the prince is quick to cut in. "Do you think... something may have happened? Ser Alois said that they wouldn't be long. Perhaps we ought to find them..."

Edelgard considers his words. "And abandon our camp in the process?" Indeed, what the knights have left behind is far too much for them to bother shouldering on their way to the outpost. "I agree, though, that it's somewhat worrisome... I can find them, if I must." The princess moves to stand.

"By yourself? You're kidding, right? If something happened to _them_ , what makes you think the same thing wouldn't happen to _you?_ " Claude takes a moment to put down his fish and lick his fingers clean.

"I wouldn't expect to go by myself, unless the two of you aren't yet finished enjoying the soothing walk in the forest you've been treating this as." Edelgard retrieves her axe and fixes Claude with a look. "That said, I'd just as likely be better off without either of you in my way. By all means, continue enjoying your dinner with one another."

"Please, Lady Edelgard, I could never allow you to venture out alone... regardless of your prowess." Dimitri stands, too; the only lance in his possession is a training weapon, quite flimsy and too unreliable for his liking, but his sword rests at his hip, as always. "It would be prudent to find them together, or so I believe at least."

Claude finishes cleaning off his fingers without breaking direct eye contact with Edelgard, wiping them on his cloak. "If you think I would draw my bow with grease all over my fingers, you must be out of your mind." He stands as well, slinging his quiver over his shoulder and grabbing his bow--also a training weapon, and also not very impressive, but it will have to do. "Please, Your Highest of Highnesses, lead the way." He extends a hand as though ushering Edelgard into the forest.

"One can never be certain, with you." Edelgard tosses her hair over her shoulder as she approaches the tree line, back to the fire and the village beyond. "Do be careful with that lance, Dimitri." Oh yes, she's certainly seen him in the training hall... and the things he's done to their poor training weapons.

"You suspect it will truly come to violence?" Not that Dimitri doesn't; he doesn't hide his sigh. "If need be, I have my sword beside me, and that will be enough should my lance fail. It's nothing either of you needs to concern yourself with."

Claude stares at the back of her head as they go, schooling his expression. Why must she treat Dimitri like he's a child, or like she thinks he's some kind of imbecile? "Regardless, I'll cover you from the back. At least _one_ of us has some faith that Dimitri knows what he's doing."

She says nothing, only... stops. Turns her head this way and that, casting her eyes around to try and peer through the trees. Everything falls still... Claude recognizes the look of someone who knows something's wrong and immediately readies his bow, scanning the forest--

The whistle of an arrow through the air breaks the silence and Edelgard is quick to dodge, flinching at the thunk of the arrowhead burying deep into a tree. She hears more arrows loosed around them, slicing through the air, none finding their targets but coming closer with each successive shot. She whips around to face the others and sucks in a breath. "Go—return to the village!"

Dimitri is no stranger to adrenaline, even if Edelgard's reaction, the wide-eyed panic on her face, very nearly startles him into inaction. His feet are moving before his mind does, though his heart beats no harder even as the arrows come closer to hitting him. Claude catches a flash of movement between the trees behind Dimitri and fires, but it's too dark and there are too many trees for him to even tell if he hit anything or not. So he does the next best thing--he runs.

He runs as fast as he can, pelting through the forest, and as a result there's no time for him to even raise his bow before he almost runs headlong into a figure bursting from the bushes with an axe. "Whoa!" He ducks into a roll and manages to avoid the worst of the bandit's swing, but it catches him as he's coming back up to start running again--he grunts with the pain and stumbles a bit, more surprised than anything. But he can definitely feel the warmth of blood seeping through his uniform now, and a too-familiar panic is starting to set in. This newcomer was behind them. Must have watched them pass, waited to spring the ambush. These bandits knew they were coming...somehow. He scrambles to put his back to a tree, to try to get an arrow ready, but the figure with the axe is still coming--

Dimitri finds himself strangely calm at first, even as the sounds of footsteps begin to close in around them. Edelgard is already gone, having run far ahead, but Claude--oh. _Oh, no._ The prince doesn't hesitate, taking up not his spear but the sword at his hip, and it takes only a single swing to carve through their aggressor from underneath one arm, diagonally across his back, and out through his other side. The sound is sickening when the man's body falls, halved, but Dimitri looks only at Claude, eyes wide. "Go, please--"

By the time Claude gets his arrow nocked and ready, the bandit is...very, very dead. He watches the body...the pieces of the body...fall with a squelch into the leaves covering the forest floor without his expression changing at all. But when Dimitri speaks, he looks up with a flash of confusion and, briefly, fear. "What--get down." As soon as the prince is out of his sights he fires, his blunted arrow flying true at the foe approaching from the trees but not doing a lot other than distracting him. "Come on, Mitya, we _both_ have to go!"

As soon as he's upright again, Dimitri is moving forward, latching onto Claude by the arm and dragging him around the tree and along. It's difficult, navigating without tripping up himself or the other boy, but they're fast, and they hadn't gone that far into the forest. Claude lets Dimitri pull him through the trees, gritting his teeth anytime a twinge from the wound pains him. It's not deep, he doesn't think, but it still hurts and could be a problem if he keeps having to run like this for too long. Unless his Crest kicks in, but that's always kind of a crapshoot.

They're soon breaking through the treeline and stumbling back out into the open camp. Edelgard stands poised, very nearly rushing the both of them when she spots them, though is quick to draw her axe away before she can lop one of their arms off, luckily enough. "Bandits... those were...!"

"They sure were." Claude backs well away from the treeline, pulling Dimitri with him as a side effect of the prince's refusal to let go of his arm, but doesn't bother readying his bow. He fights to keep the panic off his face and out of his voice. "These arrows are useless. We should get to the village."

But the underbrush along the edge of the forest breaks and their pursuers slip forth, before they have a chance to go anywhere. "We might not have time." Edelgard readies herself, lifts her axe and finds her stance, preparing to slice into the next fool that comes too close to them--but the tree line erupts into flames, scorching the bandits that came too close. Claude startles and Edelgard gapes for a moment before casting the briefest of glances behind them, where the sound of approaching hooves reaches them from over the hill. Claude whirls, thoughts racing-- _are they behind us too? How many of them are there? How did they know we were here?_

"What in the Goddess'--" Dimitri would've thought them to be more bandits, but the figures that approach on horseback are different, a stark contrast to the axe-wielding brutes who chased them through the forest. It seems the students aren't the only ones caught off guard either; the onslaught has stopped, momentarily. Dimitri glances to Claude and they both rush farther away from the forest, managing to skid to a stop just as the newcomers do. One dismounts, seems to approach—but then strides straight past them with a sword drawn to charge into the fray, albeit... eerily calmly. Dimitri blinks and turns to Claude, now that he has a moment. "Are you hurt? Did they--?"

Claude falls still, watching the blank-faced stranger with the piercing eyes brush past them without a word, into the woods. _Who was that...?_ He tears his eyes away when he can't see them anymore to look up at Dimitri. "Just a scratch, nothing to worry about." The cut is a few inches above his waist, on his side toward the back, and a few inches long. He can't really see how much it's bleeding right now, but he knows it feels warm and sticky, so there's at least _some_ blood...

Dimitri knows they haven't the time for him to distract himself, as much as that budding concern grows and grows... the prince huffs and whips his head around, glancing at the fight that awaits. Edelgard has already joined the fray, alongside their apparent saviors. "Please... keep your distance, if you can." It's said with one final look, his hand sliding down to Claude's hand to squeeze it. Claude opens his mouth to remind the prince that keeping his distance is his whole _modus operandi_ , but Dimitri's already off with his sword prepared, rushing headlong to meet a lancer who manages to slip through.

Dimitri doesn't bother with the sword in his right hand; he catches the lance in his left, wood splintering and shattering under his gauntlet–-

He spins the half of the spear in his grasp, rams it with brutal force into his foe--

Once the bandit is knocked to the ground, pinned to the dirt by the tip of his own weapon buried deep in his throat, Dimitri rushes onward with a shuddering huff of a breath.

For all the time Claude's spent training with Dimitri, they've never actually fought a real battle together before now. He had the prince's vague description, of course, of the way he was at his maiden battle, and he'd braced himself for the reality of it, knowing they'd be fighting alongside each other at some point at the Academy. And Claude is hardly a stranger to death; he's had to kill a man himself once before, one who had been paid to kill him first, and at the time it was shocking. But since then, he's accompanied Nader in skirmishes, watched Judith take care of raiders from the mountains, seen soldiers die.

None of that prepared him, though, for watching Dimitri--sweet, kind, shy Dimitri--jam half a spear straight through someone's neck hard enough to impale him with it. Claude only freezes for a moment, though. Keep his distance he will, but not idly. The training arrows might be useless for hurting anyone seriously, but he can serve as a precision instrument of distraction to create openings for the others. He lifts his bow and gets to work.

The fight isn't a long one, but Claude tries not to get distracted watching Dimitri make quick and violent work of any bandit he comes across. It isn't easy. Dimitri's flow in battle is almost mesmerizing, barely pausing in between movements more aggressive than Claude's ever seen out of the gentle prince before. He thinks at first that it might be upsetting to watch, scary even; and it is, a little, but more than that it's...he's not sure what. Impressive, for sure. Exciting? He finds he's almost disappointed when they run out of enemies to fight and Dimitri finally stops.

* * *

Dimitri's adrenaline doesn't fully ebb until after the bandits are long since slain, until after Alois and his knights finally return to find them and their saviors back at the village. Said saviors are mercenaries, their leader clarifies quickly; and no, they won't be charging for this, he also clarifies soon after Alois establishes that he knows the man. Once it's decided that the mercenary and his troupe will be returning to the monastery with them in the morning, they all decide that they ought to sleep indoors for the night, as opposed to the camp they'd originally set up, given the circumstances.

Remire is small, compared to most of the villages around Fhirdiad, but still considerable enough that it can house them comfortably in its one inn. After a healer in Alois' squad looks over him for wounds, Dimitri is sent on his way and wanders the narrow hall until he finds his room--the one that he'll be sharing with Claude and Edelgard, that is. But one of the mercenaries – the one that led the charge, the blank-faced sword wielder – stands in the doorway, gazing in. Dimitri stops, and... against his usual instinct, strains to listen, but he doesn't need to for long. They leave about as soon as Dimitri has arrived, barely sparing him a glance as they pass.

_What was that?_

"Claude?" he says softly, once he ducks his head around the doorframe. "There you are. I... how are you feeling?"

Once the battle ended, the Knights' healers tended to Claude's injury and told him to go rest. He didn't really want to do that, but they were insistent, so now he's sitting on his bed with the pillow propped up against the wall. He leans back against it, feet folded under him, fletching an arrow. Or at least he was doing that, until that mercenary showed up and...performed a sort of sign language at him that he couldn't understand. He apologized and thanked them for saving the students' lives, but that blank expression he got in return could have meant anything, and then they just...wandered off. So full of mysteries...he wants to solve them all.

Dimitri's arrival distracts him from staring into space thinking about it, though. He smiles. "I'm fine. The healers do good work; I'm sure by tomorrow I'll barely notice it."

 _We're alone right now, so he must be telling the truth._ Dimitri nods and sighs, moving to shut the door behind him before he crosses and joins Claude on his bed. "I'm glad. I-- during the battle, it was a bit of an ordeal not to run back to you."

Dimitri sitting on the bed with him only serves to remind Claude that they will not be alone in the room tonight, and he will not feel safe with Edelgard here, behind a closed door, in a small room where Claude's weapon is the most useless. At least he has the dagger. But he wishes he could reasonably sleep closer to the prince... "Well, I'm glad you didn't--they needed you out there. I wouldn't be surprised to hear you handled half the bandits on your own."

Dimitri goes quiet, eyes low, trained on Claude's waist where he's now dressed with bandages, undoubtedly. "I'm sorry."

Claude looks at him with confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"I hate to see you hurt... I told myself I would not allow it to happen." And how infuriated Dimitri felt, too, when he realized they'd managed to hurt Claude. "I'm just... glad that things are okay now, at least, as much as they can be... and that it wasn't worse." He'll still be keeping an eye on Claude, of course, making sure he isn't pushing himself or worsening his wound.

Dimitri's been saying things like this for years, but it still feels a little alien to Claude to have someone so adamant about protecting him, after so long alone and constantly watching his back with the Alliance nobles. Part of him wants to tell Dimitri that he can't possibly prevent all harm to him when they're literally attending school to learn to fight in battle and Claude will always be a long way from the front lines, where the prince is needed. But that will only make Dimitri dig his heels in further, so he smiles and takes Dimitri's hand. "Thanks, Mitya. Don't worry, I don't plan to walk into any more ambushes if I can help it," a bit wry. "Which makes me wonder why--"

The door opens, albeit only slightly, at first, cracked open, and then it just...stops. Claude's eyes dart to the door immediately and he lets go of Dimitri's hand, pulling his own back into his lap. The pause makes his heart pound...he's just about to quietly pull out his dagger when it finally opens fully to reveal that mercenary again, peeking their head in. He puts on a smile. "Oh hey, it's you again. Have you properly met Dimitri? Uh, I mean, His Highness Prince Dimitri of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus?" It's a legitimate correction--it's the sort of thing he'd be expected to do, introducing him to someone--but he can't help flicking a quick glance Dimitri's way as though using his full title were a private joke between them.

The mercenary looks to the prince, not bothering to hide that they're studying him... they leave the door open behind them and walk briskly in, pausing near Claude's bed... before carefully taking a seat on the bed beside it. In their hands they clutch a small book and a short quill to match, though it appears to write even without dipping it in ink beforehand... After a few moments of quiet scratching on paper, they hand the book over, and Dimitri takes it readily. He reads it aloud: "'How is... the wound on your back?'"

Despite Claude's misgivings, his smile grows a bit more genuine, seeing this as he leans forward to peer over Dimitri's shoulder at the book. "Oh, that's a great idea! I don't know why I didn't think of that when you were here before. It's much better, thanks. The Church sure doesn't skimp on training its healers, heh. How about you? You weren't hurt in the fight, were you?"

It's subtle, the way the tension leaves their face, even if it was barely noticeable at all. They shake their head, and take the book back, continue writing... but then, the prince interrupts. "I... assume that you aren't able to speak, or to hear very well. Tell me—do you know the Goddess' signs?" They seem to consider, setting the book aside, pausing... and then their hands are moving again, more of those gestures from before. Dimitri watches with rapt attention, expression brightening. "I see! In that case--" He glances to Claude, now. "If I may, I can translate it, for you."

"Oh, it's a _Church_ thing." Claude immediately regrets saying it out loud in front of the mercenary, as he's made the mistake before of admitting to not knowing something about the Church and getting incredulous and suspicious reactions. But it's too late now, so he rolls with it. "Yeah, I'd appreciate that."

"Mm. At some point, the Church developed a common language for the use of the deaf and the mute. It's quite interesting, really. Ah, but please, continue." The mercenary does, stringing together another few sentences of signs that the prince absorbs readily. 'Father said that you come from the... Academy. Is that true?'

"That's right. The Officers' Academy. Glorious bastion of Fodlan's best and brightest who will inherit the future and shape the world!...at least, so they said during the unbearably long and boring orientation ceremony." Claude smirks.

They seem to consider this so seriously, for a moment. 'Never heard of it.' Their head tilts to the side, wide eyes blinking at Claude. 'What are you called?'

 _Never heard of it? Huh._ Claude isn't about to treat the newcomer the way other people treat him when he doesn't know this stuff, though, so he doesn't react to it. Still, there's something...very unique about this person. He really wants to know why. "Oh, sorry! I'm Claude." He considers leaving out the rest, but he'd feel bad telling them Dimitri's title and leaving his own out. It would probably make the prince feel self-conscious. "Claude von Riegan. Heir to the Grand Duke of the Leicester Alliance. But you don't have to worry about any of that madness." _That stare...is it really as innocent as it looks?_ "What are _you_ called?"

'Claude. C L A U D E.' They sign it to themselves quickly, thinking, then nod and look back to him, albeit with a quick glance at Dimitri. _He seems to be translating pretty faithfully..._ 'B E R I T H.'

"It's a pleasure to meet you properly this time, Berith."

'I don't have so many fancy titles. Only one.'

Claude gives them a curious look. "Oh? What title is that?"

'Father has asked them not to. But some people call me-' The prince pauses briefly, brows raising, as he discerns the name from the signs... and then, slowly, 'the Ashen Demon.'

Claude's eyebrows lift. "That's some title. Why do they call you that?"

Their pause, this time, is long. 'I don't know.' Their eyes flicker down. 'But it stuck.' And back up, now. 'We leave early tomorrow. To take you back up the mountain. You should rest. Both of you.'

"...you said your father has asked them not to call you that. What do _you_ think of it?"

'I don't think anything of it.'

Claude tilts his head curiously. _I wonder how true that is._ "You're coming with us to the monastery? What, do the Knights of Seiros think we're gonna run off and start another fight left to our own devices?"

Berith collects the book and quill, placing the items in their lap, though they make no move to stand yet. 'We're escorting you back. ... Father knows that man. The loud one.'

"Alois? I didn't realize he had a past. I thought he just sprang into being fully formed, out of polished armor and awful jokes. ;)" Then Claude grins. "But I'm glad to hear you're coming with us. I can talk your ear off the whole way there and we'll be bosom buddies before you know it."

Berith doesn't seem to really understand, if the tilt of their head (in the opposite direction now) is any indication, but they don't argue, either. They stand and walk around the bed to the next one, turning to face them before they sit. 'I'm sleeping here.'

Their head jerks the instant the door opens. It's Edelgard who enters this time, though she pauses to see all three of them in the room as well... she clearly wasn't expecting to have... so much... company. "Claude, Dimitri. ... and Berith, correct?" They nod at her, and so does she, in return. She crosses to the last open bed, axe still in hand, though turns back to regard them before she sits, now looking to Claude: "They told me that you were injured in the fight. Are you feeling better now?"

Claude lifts his eyebrows. _Is she asking because she gives a damn, or because if I say yes she can scold me for lazing about in bed while the rest of them took care of responsibilities or...whatever?_ "No need to worry about me, Princess, I'm right as rain and ready to be the charmingly annoying thorn in your side that you know and love."

It certainly earns him a look from her, though she doesn't comment further on it, tempting as it may be. "I'm told we'll be leaving first thing tomorrow. You should get your rest tonight, to keep your energy up for our journey." And that's all. She sits on the bed, removes her boots, slips down beneath the covers and settles, back to the wall.

"Yes, Mother." Claude rolls his eyes, even as he notes that she's sleeping facing them, not facing the wall. So she doesn't trust them any more than he trusts her. Fair enough, particularly with an obviously dangerous stranger here with them--although Claude has a hard time ascribing nefarious motives to someone with that kind of guileless, wide-eyed face. But of course, judging anyone by looks alone is a bad idea, for a variety of reasons.

He glances at Dimitri, then, as Berith makes themselves comfortable on their bed. He'd like to be able to talk to the prince in private, but clearly that's not in the cards tonight. He isn't sure why, exactly, the mercenary has been assigned to sleep here with the students. The most likely answer is because they look like they're roughly the same age (although they claimed not to know how old they are? how does that even work?), but he can't shake the feeling that there's more to Berith and their father than meets the eye. More to this ambush, too--and that, he can safely talk about. He leans in close and keeps his voice low, though, as Edelgard is trying to fall asleep. "Something's been bugging me. What were those bandits after? They couldn't have known ahead of time that we'd leave camp looking for the knights, but they were clearly lying in wait."

"I... can't really begin to imagine, outside of... you know." Dimitri begins the tedious process of removing his gauntlets and the gloves beneath them. "Whoever they are, they had access to not one but all three of Fódlan's prominent heirs. I'm not so concerned with that as I am with how they could've possibly known we would be so... vulnerable."

Claude unlaces his boots and pries them off. "It's not doing anything to make me feel safe enough to sleep in this inn, that's for sure." It's very quiet, almost muttered.

"I won't let anything happen to you." Dimitri stands and strips down a bit, but doesn't bother changing his underclothes; they're leaving early and he'll be waking earlier than even that, so he doesn't much care for getting comfortable. "Come now. We would best get our sleep. I don't know that we'll be stopping on our return journey tomorrow."

Claude smiles, but even the prince isn't immune to sleeping through an attack, or getting poisoned, or succumbing to magic, or...any number of things that might happen. "Right. Good night, Dimitri." And to Claude's credit, he does take off his jacket, slip his dagger under his pillow, get under the blankets, and try to sleep for a while, but he just...can't. Not with Edelgard and this mercenary in the room; not knowing that one or more of the Knights might have sold them out; not wondering whether some of the bandits escaped and might come back for revenge... _This isn't working._ He lights a candle and stays awake, keeping watch and thinking. Watching Dimitri sleep. Deciding that at the next opportunity, he'll ask the prince to talk to him about this...battle rage of his. Claude told Dimitri that he wasn't afraid of his best friend and he still isn't, but he doesn't want Dimitri getting in trouble or getting himself hurt. Eventually, after hours of this, he gets tired enough to nod off--sitting up with his back against the wall, clutching his dagger in his lap.


	6. Garreg Mach: Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude's almost disappointed that the Felix he's heard so much about left so quickly, because given five more seconds he would have gone in there and given the boy a piece of his mind. As it is, he says nothing, mostly for Dimitri's sake--the prince hasn't gone far enough that he couldn't hear whatever he might say to Felix in response, and if he opens his mouth he knows he'll say something cutting. So instead he just crosses the training hall to the opposite door and joins Dimitri outside, trying to stay cool instead of ranting like he sort of wants to. "Mitya...are you okay?"
> 
> Oh, Goddess... "Claude-–" Dimitri almost bites his own tongue, and pulls forcefully on the hair between his fingers. He drops his gaze to the ground, and feels his blood run cold. "I hadn't... I mean--" The prince forces his lips closed, sucks a breath in through his nose, counts in his head. He's admittedly calmer when he next speaks, but his hand trembles in Claude's grasp. "... I never wanted you to see such a thing."

So far, Felix thinks, the worst part of coming to the Officers' Academy has been the constant presence of other people. Mostly strangers. It's almost impossible to get a nice, private place to train; no matter what time of morning or night he comes to the training hall, there's always someone else who shows up and won't stop yammering at him. It's not so bad when it's Sylvain or Ingrid, although he's getting fed up with the both of them, too...their insistence on pretending everything is the same as it used to be. It's okay when it's someone who keeps to themselves and doesn't bother him, though frankly those are few and far between. And then some days...

Some days it's _the boar_. Like today. He can't look at the prince without feeling like he's back there, during those long, horrible, blood-soaked days on the field in Itha. Dimitri leaves him alone, but just his mere presence in the room has made Felix's strikes more vicious. Fear and nausea and grief mingle inside him and it all just comes out as rage. And he takes it all out on this training dummy to stop himself from taking it out on Dimitri instead.

Dimitri can't help but notice the tension, even while he makes an effort to keep his mind on his own training and ignore Felix. Seeing him again after their maiden battle together has been nothing but painful, though the prince would never say so. It soon becomes too much. The rhythm of Dimitri's strikes is broken with a splintering crack of wood—he manages not to stab his own toes, and steps aside before the tip of his training sword lodges itself point down in the dirt underfoot. Immediately, he glances to Felix, eyes widened in a panic not subtle enough to play off.

The sound of the weapon snapping is the last straw, as though the training sword were Felix's own self-control, and Dimitri's terrible strength has rent it apart. He remembers, clear as day, the prince as a child crying over the weapons he couldn't keep from breaking; when he glances over, it's almost like seeing the same look on his face as back then. Except now Felix knows it's all just...some kind of ruse, or...something. He rounds on Dimitri. "Why don't you go practice swordplay in the woods with the wild animals, boar? If you still can't control yourself, you shouldn't be here."

For the harshness of Felix's words, Dimitri doesn't react outwardly, not even a wince. He turns back, crouches to pick up the other half of his weapon without a word; there's a barrel near the weapon racks for damaged training weapons too battered for use, but none are in quite as bad a condition as the pieces Dimitri places carefully atop the pile inside. _What can I say?_ Dimitri has never been one to lie or find excuses, but even if he were, Felix would never allow him to talk his way out of it. He chooses not to argue, sighing silently to himself. He reaches briefly for a training lance... then thinks better of it and drops his hand instead.

Felix watches Dimitri now like a hawk, forcing himself to look. To see what the boy who used to be so important to him has become. "The knights won't tell us anything about what happened with those bandits. It's because of you, isn't it?"

It catches Dimitri off guard. It's a good thing he's weaponless, if it means he doesn't break another in his surprise. He raises his head, mouth agape. "I-– what?"

Felix's eyes narrow. "You heard me. Why else would they be so reluctant to tell us what happened? I know what it's like to watch you slaughter your victims like a rabid beast. I don't like talking about it either, I can hardly blame them."

"That... isn't--" Dimitri's words catch. It isn't true, he should say as much; but that look, the burning in Felix's eyes—would he even listen? Care at all for what he says, truth or no? Dimitri's next breath is shaky when it leaves him, and before he finds his words again, the prince can only manage to shake his head. "No. No, no such thing happened. I can't say why they wouldn't tell, but--"

"Is that so. Are you going to tell me what _I_ saw never happened, too? Your sick, sadistic rampage?"

 _I should have known there was no use to this._ Dimitri says nothing for a moment, merely sighs and cedes his space there in the training hall, replacing his gloves over the scars of his hands and slipping the tie from his ponytail to better hold back his hair. "No, I'm not. Good evening, Felix." His cheeks burn, his eyes sting, but the prince keeps his gaze forward and steps out into the late afternoon sun, and the gentle breeze that, while nice, brings him little comfort.

Felix finally takes his eyes off the prince only when he's out of sight and jabs his training sword back into the rack with much more force than is necessary, before stalking out of the room in the opposite direction--a bit startled to find there's someone else here now, too. _Was he just hovering out in the corridor the whole time? Spying on us? What the hell?_ "What are _you_ looking at?" he spits with as much venom as he can muster, to cover up the sudden terror that engulfs him at the thought that the Dimitri he used to know really might be gone forever. Then he leaves in a hurry, before the eavesdropper can respond.

Claude's almost disappointed that the Felix he's heard so much about left so quickly, because given five more seconds he would have gone in there and given the boy a piece of his mind. As it is, he says nothing, mostly for Dimitri's sake--the prince hasn't gone far enough that he couldn't hear whatever he might say to Felix in response, and if he opens his mouth he knows he'll say something cutting. So instead he just crosses the training hall to the opposite door and joins Dimitri outside, trying to stay cool instead of ranting like he sort of wants to. "Mitya...are you okay?"

 _Oh, Goddess..._ "Claude-–" Dimitri almost bites his own tongue, and pulls forcefully on the hair between his fingers. _What is he-- could Claude have possibly--_ "You... I, ah, I hadn't..." _Try again, idiot boy._ Dimitri obeys, and his lips curl in a soft, if shaken, smile. "I've-- never seen you at the training hall. Come to practice your swordplay?"

 _Oh, this isn't a good sign. None of this is._ Claude can feel his anger mounting, but he forces himself to keep it in check for now, though he's not sure he succeeds at keeping it out of his eyes. "Hey." He gently pulls Dimitri's hand out of his hair and holds onto it instead. "I came here to find you. Gotta say, if I'd known Felix was going to talk to you like _that_ , I never would have agreed to leave him alone." He definitely fails to stop the flash of anger that crosses his face now.

The acknowledgement is a punch to Dimitri's gut, or even more severe, from the way his face falls. He drops his gaze to the ground, and feels his blood run cold. "I hadn't... I mean--" The prince forces his lips closed, sucks a breath in through his nose, counts in his head. He's admittedly calmer when he next speaks, but his hand trembles in Claude's grasp. "... I never wanted you to see such a thing."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was about to come in when I heard what he was saying, and...you asked me to leave him be, so I did." Claude can't help scowling now, as his hand tightens around Dimitri's. "But I don't think I can after this. You stood up for me with Lorenz. Let me do the same for you." He leans forward to try to meet Dimitri's eyes. "Please, Mitya. You deserve better from people claiming to be your _friends_ , and I intend to make sure you get it."

That last part is...colder than the prince is used to hearing from him. More calculating. Claude—kind and understanding Claude, ever warm and smiling... how it pains Dimitri to see him this way, to know the cause is one of his own companions, his friend since childhood. _Friend_. There's an awful part of him that acknowledges the truth there, in Claude's words. "Claude... Felix has not understood because he does not wish to understand. Pushing him will only... it won't help."

"Oh, I can find a way to dissuade him from treating you that way without pushing. He doesn't need to understand." Claude smiles, but it's not a cheerful smile, or a warm one. His eyes still look as cool as his tone was a moment ago...but then he pauses and moves to take Dimitri's other hand now, too. "...but I'll understand if you still want me to back off. I don't want to make things more difficult for you. I just..." A bit of a mirthless chuckle. "Well, I don't need to explain it to you, I'm sure. My, how the tables have turned."

 _No. I never want to see Claude make that face again._ "This isn't yours to shoulder. That isn't to say-- you're considerate, as always, but it's really fine." And if not, then Dimitri will find a way to work around it, as he always does. "Come, let's do something else. I'm tired of training for today," he murmurs, and is quick to pull Claude away, off in a direction away from the classrooms or the dorms; he's certain Felix would be in one of those places if he's going to be avoiding the training hall. "How are things going with... your professor?"

 _No, Mitya, it isn’t fine._ But Claude just nods. If Dimitri doesn’t want him to interfere, he won’t. ...at least, not in an obvious way. He follows along readily, and for once doesn’t let go of Dimitri’s hand right away. He forces himself to speak casually, as though he isn’t still internally fuming. “I’d say it’s going well, but honestly it’s hard to tell. They’re like a blank slate. Nothing gets any obvious reaction out of them at all. It’s a little creepy, honestly. But there’s no denying that they know their stuff.”

"That's... good. I think?" Dimitri has only had the one conversation with the professor, back in the inn in Remire, and it's hardly enough to judge their character on... though it's a little disconcerting to hear that they're just as lacking in expression all the time. "Good that they are knowledgeable, at least. I must say, initially I was... quite concerned. For the Archbishop to have made such a decision so suddenly..."

"Oh, I'm _still_ concerned. It's a completely ridiculous decision on the face of it; there's definitely something more Rhea's not telling anyone, and I'm going to figure out what it is." Claude can distract himself from Felix and the way he upset Dimitri, maybe, with some good old fashioned poking his nose where it doesn't belong.

 _Well, this is... preferable to him scheming over Felix._ Dimitri sighs. "I suppose that I ought to be more apprehensive, but... the professor's father, the leader of that band of mercenaries—he has quite the reputation in Fódlan, Faerghus especially. He was once a Knight of Seiros, known as the Blade Breaker... the strongest and fiercest warrior of our continent."

"The Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon, huh? Those are some pretty intimidating nicknames."

"Mn. I hadn't seen them in battle before that day, but their reputation most certainly precedes them."

Claude muses on that for a moment, but the next thing he says is, "Is your house settling in, too? I guess since half the class is made up of your childhood friends, it must not be too different from usual for you, huh?"

The sudden topic shift throws the prince off balance for a moment. "Ah, yes, it would seem so. There are many other students I recognize from my visits around Faerghus... we have quite a few from outside Fhirdiad. From the school of sorcery, for example." Already, though, even those that he grew up with from the beginning have distanced themselves. Setting an example for the rest of their class is usually the reason, the few times Dimitri has tried to ask them... _It's going to be a long year._

"Huh, I wonder if they know Lorenz." Claude wishes immediately that he hadn't brought up the Gloucester heir; it makes his thoughts drift back to Felix. "And I haven't spoken to very many of the Black Eagles so far, but I'm sure Edelgard's lectured them into submission already by now." _That's not helping, either._

"You and Edelgard... truly do not get along, do you?" Not that Dimitri went into this conversation intending to put him on the spot (he'd already said it before he realized it) but it really has concerned him. _All of this is..._

"I can respect Edelgard when she isn't treating us like we're beneath her. It's not like she gets along with you, either--she doesn't even try."

"You... seem quite tense. Perhaps now would be a good time to show you those forest paths...? If you would like, that is." _We both could use it at this point._

 _Tense, huh?_ Claude supposes he isn't hiding it as well as he'd thought. Or else Dimitri just knows him well enough to notice. Unlike most people, who don't bother to get to know him at all. "Sure, let's go."

It isn't a long journey before they've left the monastery gates behind. The forest seems far more inviting to Dimitri than the inside of Garreg Mach's walls... once they're out of sight, Dimitri makes to take Claude's hand in his own again. "Our year has barely even started, and already I... am I the only one who finds this all to be so-- overwhelming?" Their houses may be smaller than most average classes, comprised of twenty or so nobles and commoners, but they all look to him for guidance... not to even speak of those of other houses who see him as a rival, perhaps even an enemy.

Claude, too, relaxes a little once they leave the monastery and readily accepts Dimitri’s hand, though he manages to avoid clinging to it like he sort of wants to. “No, it’s not just you.” He takes in a long breath and lets it out. “I’m pretty sure Hilda’s the only one of the Deer who doesn’t think I’m incompetent, sinister, or both. Some grand duke I’m going to make, if I can’t even manage to lead one class.” He tries to sound wry and nonchalant. He’s not sure if it’ll fool Dimitri.

"You're going to be an excellent duke. Just as I'm certain you'll be an excellent house leader." Dimitri brings Claude's arm close, so that his other hand can squeeze his bicep. "Once your house has time to warm up to you, to see what you're like and how you conduct yourself, I've not a doubt they'll come to see your charms as I have."

Claude leans his head against Dimitri’s shoulder as they walk. “I don’t think anyone’s ever going to see me the way you do, Mitya. You’re special.” He can’t get Felix’s snarl out of his mind, though, nor the way Dimitri worried at his hair and smiled so hesitantly...

Dimitri isn't exactly used to hearing such things, even from Claude, but... it's often enough that he'll at least accept it, when he hears it. He's lucky the shade of the forest helps to hide the blush that overtakes him, though.

“Hey, can I ask you about something?”

"Of course, always."

”I remember your letter, when you told me what happened at your maiden battle, but...we never really talked about it.” Claude squeezes the prince’s hand a little, to try to reassure him that no matter what he says, Claude’s not going anywhere. “Do you want to?”

 _Not at all_ , Dimitri thinks immediately. The mention alone has him tensing up, the slightest tightening of his hands around Claude's arm... he doesn't want to in the slightest, but can he leave Claude in the dark? Should he? Claude's said once before that he would never fear him, and thus far has been nothing but honest with him, hasn't he? Even when he might not have wanted to be. "... I have to use my strength to hurt people," he starts, lowly. Dimitri is briefly unsure of what else to even say. "Not only had it been my first time taking a life, I-- did it with my bare hands. I was using my sword, at the time, and... it had been knocked from my grasp. And so, when he charged at me, I..."

Claude stops walking and turns to face Dimitri, resting his other hand on the prince’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me the rest. But you can. I promise, Mitya, I’m not afraid of you. ...I may not have had a maiden battle, really, the way you do in Faerghus, but...” He forces himself not to look down, nor let go. “When we do take the field for real, it won’t be the first time I’ve taken a life either.” He didn’t tell Dimitri about this. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to, knowing it would upset the prince. But now, he thinks maybe he should.

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, before Dimitri is moving to grip him back, hands firm around Claude's biceps. "What do you mean?" What a horrible chill it is that runs up his spine, the images that his mind conjures with nothing more to go on but something so... vague.

Claude blinks, not having expected such an intense reaction. He hadn’t really thought that Dimitri might be shocked to hear what he’s done, might think less of him...but he’s already started, so... “Uh...I...there was an assassin. I didn’t...it was just...” His voice quiets. “I had to.”

For the rage that sparks in his eyes, the first question Dimitri asks isn't the one Claude expects. "An... _assassin_ —when was this? When did this happen?" A fierce whisper, and then a pause; more than mere anger, there's desperation in his gaze. Concern. Fear, even. "Has... was it only... the once? Have they come for you since?"

 _Oh..._ Claude actually relaxes a little now, even as Dimitri becomes more agitated. Concern, he can deal with. Just not...not the other thing. "It was maybe six or seven months after you went back to Fhirdiad. And yes, they tried again, last year...it was poison the second time, though, and my grandfather hired a taster, so..." He puts both hands on Dimitri's shoulders now, looking up into his eyes with a bit of firmness. "But Mitya, it wasn't just in Derdriu. This...isn't new."

"That's-- that is what _upsets_ me." Indeed, even just thinking of the implications, Dimitri is shaken straight through to his core. He hasn't felt a rage this intense, hasn't felt this helpless, since Duscur's immediate aftermath; though he's quick to release Claude, conscious of the way his hands tremble in their gauntlets. "This... I can't abide this. I won't."

Claude isn't sure he's done Dimitri any favors in telling him this. His instinct is to brush it off as just the way of things--after all, he was taught to defend himself from assassins at a young age--but he realizes that would only make things worse. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to upset you, I just thought...if you knew that we were in the same boat, you might feel a little better about things."

There isn't much Dimitri can say to that, both because he knows Claude comes from a place of good intentions and because of how overwhelmed he feels, knowing now just how often, how long, his closest friend's life has been endangered. The prince embraces him instead, though briefly forgets to watch the tightness of his grip; the beginnings of his hug are vicelike. "... it is heartening, to know that you would not judge me," he says after some time, "but even so, Claude, this is different. This was not some assassin come to kill me, nor even a common soldier. The people of Itha were _my_ people, mere commoners... perhaps they did take up arms in their rebellion, but there hasn't passed a day where I don't wonder if I could have... if I..."

Claude returns the embrace tightly, only grunting a little at the painful first few seconds of it. He sighs; for all that this conversation is dire, the only thing on his mind after a moment is once again how...nice, how much of a comfort it is, to have Dimitri back. "Mitya..." He tries to imagine his parents lamenting having to take up arms against Almyran citizens who rebelled, and can't. But then, wasn't that what he had liked about first King Lambert and then Dimitri through their letters, when they first started writing them? The kindness, the welcoming words, the open arms. So unlike what he was used to. "I know." He remembers watching the prince thrust a broken spear straight through a bandit's neck, with a violence he'd never seen before from his sweet, compassionate friend. And he understands why people might be afraid of him--but more, he understands why Dimitri might be afraid of _himself_. Claude has been afraid of himself before, too. Not for the same sort of reason, but... "We can't turn back time. All you can do is learn from it and move forward. Right?"

 _Move forward. Right._ "Together," Dimitri says softly, and sighs, lets the strain melt from his shoulders, and his grip on Claude loosens, just slightly. The prince pulls away and looks him in the eye, now, his own shining vaguely. "Move forward together."

Claude smiles. "Yeah, exactly. Just like we always planned. I'm right here." _And if I ever hear Felix talk to you like that again, I'm not sure what I'll do, but it won't be friendly._


	7. Garreg Mach: A Moment in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's much to think about, though Dimitri's thoughts come to quiet themselves as he gazes at Claude. He moves just slightly, lifts an arm... perhaps by some earlier exertion or merely absentmindedness, Claude's braid is coming loose. The prince raises a scarred finger, and carefully twirls some of those errant curls around it, unthinking. "I like who you are. All the time... even had I no inclination to better Fódlan for anyone else's sake, I believe that I could still do so, for you."
> 
> An odd shiver runs through Claude as Dimitri's fingers find his hair and he goes very still, not daring to move lest Dimitri stop what he's doing. And then his face reddens, hearing the rest...but there's also a little knot of trepidation in the pit of his stomach. Dimitri likes who he is all the time--but that's only because he hasn't seen the other Claude. The one who ruthlessly manipulates anyone he needs to in order to get what he wants. The one who's more calculating than kind, who smiles without meaning it. And he doesn't really ever want Dimitri to see that Claude. "...would you still say that if I did something...questionable?"

_This is getting far too dangerous, lingering here like this._ Dimitri doesn't like thinking this way, but it is what it is; the path they're on is used sometimes by knights and students out hunting or training, and it wouldn't do for the two of them to be seen here. So Dimitri doesn't wait long before he continues on, adjusting his grip to hold Claude's hand once again and begin leading him back along the path. "Come... I have something to show you. We were almost there when we stopped, so it isn't far." True to his word, after combing through a few rows of wild bushes and shrubbery, the foliage parts into a clearing occupied mostly by a small spring, illuminated only by a few soft rays of light that manage to break through the thick canopy above. The sound of running water drowns out their soft steps; on the other side, it trails into a little river, a smaller trickle down the mountain compared to the actual rivers below. Dimitri tugs Claude to the edge of the pond. "I found this place purely by accident, but... it's quite the nice little haven." He hesitates before he continues more softly, "I... imagined this as the sort of place you would love to nap in."

Stepping into the clearing, Claude makes a soft 'ooh' sound. "Wow, it's beautiful." He lets himself be tugged, and blushes a little... _So Dimitri found a lovely, secluded place in the woods and thought of me? That's...that is...well, it's very sweet._ _Which Dimitri has always been. No need to feel nervous about that. Right?_ "Ha, I must be getting predictable--you know me so well. It _does_ look like an excellent napping spot."

For the darker turns his mood took mere minutes earlier, the prince manages a light scoff. "Predictable? I _did_ spend a portion of my memorable childhood staking out such napping spots beside you. I think my taste, at this point, has been refined quite nicely."

Claude laughs. "Touché."

Dimitri sits without fanfare, even pauses briefly to consider before he decides to remove his gloves and gauntlets and lets his fingers sink down into the grass... "Suffice it to say, how relieving it is to have a place to relax outside of the Academy's usual sphere of observation."

Claude sits down beside the prince, listening to the soothing babble of the water. "Though when the weather gets colder, we'll have to find the perfect _indoor_ napping spot. Otherwise, you'll end up hauling a Claudesicle to class."

"I resolved not to let you freeze then, and I would do the same now, but if an indoor spot is what you would prefer... I'm certain the monastery has its fair share of nooks and crannies hidden from view." The sensation in Dimitri's hands being as minimal as it is, he barely feels the dew still on the grass... but it's a nice, cold sort of tickle, almost. It isn't often the prince allows himself to experience such things. "It's helped me a great deal, coming here to clear my head when I've needed it. I will teach you the markings I've left to help me find this place... if you ever want to come back."

Claude runs his hands through the grass too, closing his eyes briefly to enjoy the sensation, and silently thanks the gods of the forest and the water for showing Dimitri this place. "Hmm, I don't know. On the one hand, I definitely want to come back. On the other, I don't need to learn them if I just always come back with you." _Wait...was that weird? I hope Dimitri doesn't think that's weird. He won't. Right?_

"I suppose you have a point." It would seem Dimitri doesn't. "But I'll also say now that this isn't the only such spot I've found outside of the monastery. The mountain itself is quite beautiful... and there aren't any towns or villages to be seen until you reach the bottom. Outside of Garreg Mach, everything else has been largely undisturbed. I'll have to show you the others, sometime."

"I'd love to see them." Claude pulls off his boots and socks, rolls up his pants, and scoots forward to put his feet in the water. "You know, I've also been hunting for secret passages around the monastery. I've heard there are tons! I've only found a few so far, but I bet we could find one with a great indoor place to nap. With the additional potential bonus of uncovering ancient Church secrets. ;)"

"Glad to see that your priorities are rightly in order." Dimitri doesn't quite relax to the same extent, but he's letting his guard down here, far more than he's let himself elsewhere since he arrived. With a sigh, he lies back on the grass and focuses on the soft breeze through the trees... "...Claude. Have you ever wanted to be... somewhere else? Anywhere else? Almost... living a different life, in a way."

Claude turns and then lies back too, still dangling his feet in the pond. "Yeah. All the time. I thought coming to Fódlan would be that somewhere else, but...well, it is different, I'll give it that." He smiles up at the canopy of leaves. "And it has you in it, so that's a plus."

"Mm... I suppose. But more I mean... I don't really know what I mean." Dimitri knits his brows, squinting just slightly into the canopy, darkening under the slow drift of the clouds. "I... well, as you might remember, I often traveled with my father as he roamed Faerghus, and we would come into contact with a great number of our people that way. Sometimes... I wondered what it would be like had I been born in some small village somewhere. Had my parents not been royalty." Had his home not borne so many expectations of him, maybe. "Perhaps I would have wanted more... or perhaps I would have been perfectly content. There's no way to know, and yet I can't help but wonder about that sort of thing."

Claude thinks back to that one worrisome letter he received from Dimitri, not that long ago. About Fhirdiad feeling more like a prison than a home. "...what about as things are? Would you give up the throne? Go live some other life? You could, you know. My mother did it."

Dimitri isn't certain how much he should say at first, but this is Claude he's speaking to. There's little point, really, in pretenses and flowery language. "Were there anyone else I could trust to bring good things for Faerghus – for all of Fódlan, and beyond, too – perhaps I would. But right now, there isn't anyone I would trust enough to work with you, and do what needs to be done. As you've said before... there are none who understand you as I do." _The inverse is true as well._ "But that is how I see it. Perhaps it would be easier for me to walk away from this responsibility I've been given... no, actually, I don't think that it would be. The guilt alone would kill me," Dimitri says. "Perhaps it wasn't my own choice, but leaving that burden for someone else to shoulder... that isn't who my experiences have turned me into, either."

What a strange feeling, Claude thinks, to be simultaneously happy that Dimitri understands him and vice versa, and guilty because if it weren't for all of Claude's grand pipe dreams, maybe Dimitri wouldn't feel so pressured into being king...no, that's ridiculous. Dimitri's the most courageous and selfless person Claude knows--of _course_ he feels that he can't abandon his people. He nods and kicks his feet a little through the water, thinking back further now. To when he was a kid, trying to hide his parentage and identity so he wouldn't seem like such an outsider. To the time a few months after Dimitri left Derdriu, when he tried to sneak out and run away to Fhirdiad, only for Judith to find him and bring him back.

"I do think I know what you mean, though. When I was younger, there were times when I wished no one in Almyra knew who I was, wished my mother had been Almyran, wished I didn't have a Crest." _Wished I wasn't so different from everyone else._ "But they do and she isn't and I do, so all I can do is follow my dream and change my life by changing the world instead. And besides..." He pushes himself up to scoot back toward Dimitri and lie on his side, propping his head up on a hand, so he can look down at the prince. "I know now that all those experiences, no matter how much I hated them sometimes, made me who I am. And I like who I am...usually. Heh." He abruptly realizes he's resisting an urge to reach out and run his fingers through the fine blond hair cascading into the grass. _Get a grip, Claude..._

There's much to think about, though Dimitri's thoughts come to quiet themselves as he gazes at Claude. He moves just slightly, lifts an arm... perhaps by some earlier exertion or merely absentmindedness, Claude's braid is coming loose. The prince raises a scarred finger, and carefully twirls some of those errant curls around it, unthinking. "I like who you are. All the time... even had I no inclination to better Fódlan for anyone else's sake, I believe that I could still do so, for you."

An odd shiver runs through Claude as Dimitri's fingers find his hair and he goes very still, not daring to move lest Dimitri stop what he's doing. And then his face reddens, hearing the rest...but there's also a little knot of trepidation in the pit of his stomach. Dimitri likes who he is all the time--but that's only because he hasn't seen the _other_ Claude. The one who ruthlessly manipulates anyone he needs to in order to get what he wants. The one who's more calculating than kind, who smiles without meaning it. And he doesn't really ever want Dimitri to see that Claude. "...would you still say that if I did something...questionable?"

"Were you to do something questionable, Claude, it would be because you had reason to." How certain Dimitri sounds. He takes the braid between his finger and thumb, and pulls away the gold ornament on its end; by the time the braid's unfurled itself, the prince is sitting upright. He takes those wispy locks into his hands, undoing and redoing the braid with no small amount of care. "You couldn't do a thing that would discourage me."

For a moment it feels like Claude's not sure he can breathe properly. His father is the only other person who's ever braided his hair before, and even that only when he was teaching him how to do it himself. And he's starting to feel like there's something oddly...intimate about this. And he sure doesn't hate it. He swallows before he responds; the heat in his cheeks doesn't go away, as he watches Dimitri with awe that he tries to hide. What did he ever do to deserve this kind of faith in him? How can the prince be so sure? What if someday Claude ends up manipulating _him_ , taking advantage of that faith? Maybe without realizing it. Or maybe on purpose. He doesn't want to, but he knows himself well enough to know that sometimes he just...does these things. It's an instinct, a reflex. A defense. "If you say so." He tries to smile.

"I do say so, actually." After he's secured Claude's braid again, Dimitri doesn't move back, nor does he shrink away from looking the other boy in the eye. They're... sat quite close, now, and there's something else in the prince's eyes besides that hint of amusement. "I don't know what I could do to prove it, but I would, if possible."

Claude doesn’t usually have much trouble looking people in the eye, but in this case he might have expected to...instead, he finds it impossible to look away. That look in the prince’s eyes...mesmerizes him. Breathing still doesn’t seem as easy as it should be and he really wants to...to _do something_ with this sudden energy, with his almost imperceptible trembling, but...

He’s getting that feeling again, that something is different now, and this time he’s got an idea of what it might be. But he can’t. He can’t risk it. Even though Dimitri is literally telling him right now that nothing he could do would drive him away...maybe he hasn’t considered _that_. If Claude were to lose him...well, he wouldn’t be at Garreg Mach by the next day, he knows that much. “Prove it, huh?” _People don’t usually say things like that, do they?_ “I guess I’m...short on ideas too, heh. If I think of something I’ll...I’ll let you know.”

"Please do." When Dimitri does finally move away, it isn't merely for Claude's sake; his resolve has grown greatly over the years, but even he can take only so much... He lets his eyes return to the water, eventually, and the prince rests his chin against a knee. The trees above are a perfect cover for the rain beginning to sprinkle down; not even a single drop of it hits him after it starts in earnest. "On a lighter note... we won't become drowned rats in this clearing, at least."

Claude’s not sure whether it’s a relief or a disappointment when Dimitri moves back again...some of both, probably. It takes him a moment to find his voice again; when he does, he moves to sit next to the prince once again. “Huh, that’s impressive,” he says, looking up at the canopy. “Unless you want to jump into the pond. But you know I don’t mind being out in the rain, anyway.”

"I know, but... I believe it would be difficult to nap with water all over you." And at the mention, Dimitri lies back down, though now on his side facing Claude. It's already making him tired, the sounds of rain above and around... he closes his eyes.

Claude chuckles. “I’ve slept through worse...but you’re right, I’d probably get sick or something.” He lies down too, facing Dimitri, leaving his shoes and socks where they are in the grass. “You were right, you really do have a knack for finding good napping places. This is perfect, Mitya.”

There's a retort on the tip of Dimitri's tongue (he would take care of Claude were he to get himself sick, without question) but he thinks better of it, and settles instead for smiling, half hidden behind his arm. "What say you and I go to the dining hall after our return to the monastery? We haven't yet had the opportunity to try our hand at dinner."

”Yeah, let’s do it.” Claude hesitates for a moment. They’ve been sleeping in the same bed most nights for weeks now, but something about this moment seems somehow more...fragile? Or at least uncertain. He stretches and yawns a bit. “The only thing that would make this spot more perfect is if I had a blanket.” _Very subtle..._

"Are you going to come closer, then?" Knowing Claude, he probably didn't think such an option was on the table (and maybe Dimitri himself would've had the same hesitation when they first met again...). Dimitri cracks open an eye, expectant, but also clearly amused.

Claude almost laughs at himself, feeling significantly more comfortable in an instant. Only Dimitri could have quieted his worries in the blink of an eye like that, and he reminds himself that this is _Dimitri_ , his closest friend, who isn’t going to suddenly change the way they interact because of one weird, awkward moment. “Well, since you asked...” It's ever so slightly sheepish, as he crawls over to lie close to the prince.

It feels natural for Dimitri to fit his arm over Claude, tucking him close, albeit far more carefully than in their younger years; he can't exactly get away with pulling the other boy all over the place without hurting him anymore, probably. Dimitri pulls his cloak with him, draping it over Claude as well and, fortunately, it's just long enough to cover most of him. They're lying nearly eye to eye, now. "A short nap... and then dinner. That sounds nice."

Claude smiles, slipping his own arm loosely around Dimitri underneath their makeshift blanket. “It does.” He’s always loved looking into the prince’s eyes - the color of the sky, clear and bright...oh no, how long has he been doing this without saying anything? _Whoops._

If he minds, Dimitri makes no indication of it. He relishes, in fact, that they can still be like this with each other, even if things may never be how he wishes for them to be. He chuckles, a whisper of a sound more to himself than to Claude, and finally lets his eyes drift closed, hand coming to rest gingerly on Claude's waist.

Claude closes his eyes too, relaxing against Dimitri’s chest. Maybe he should...confide in someone about these feelings that keep finding their way to him. Like Hilda, probably--there isn’t anyone else. Although Mercedes keeps dropping hints that she wants to get to know him better, and she’s pretty close to Dimitri...hmm. With these thoughts, the prince’s quiet breath, and the fresh smell of rain, he drifts off to sleep.

Dimitri is patient, but Claude is the first to fall asleep as usual. Dimitri came close today, _very_ close, to acting on feelings he knows that he shouldn't... he watches Claude, their faces mere inches apart, and revels in knowing that the other boy feels at peace, that the softness of his face is contentment, and trust. He thinks against doing anything more soon enough that the single kiss he leaves against Claude's forehead is featherlight. He falls into a light slumber of his own soon after, comforted by the warmth of the other prince beside him.


	8. Garreg Mach: Mercedes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude helps Mercedes with some baking, and they both learn a little bit more about each other. Claude gets mortified. A spice jar gets broken.

It's not uncommon for Claude to forget to eat lunch. He gets so wrapped up in whatever he's doing, whether it's studying, training, or planning for the Deer's next mission, that he loses track of time until hours have passed and he's left wondering why he feels so tired. Occasionally, Hilda drops by to remind him not to collapse of hunger, if she can find him; today she doesn't, so it's pretty late in the afternoon before the growling of his stomach finally alerts him to his predicament. He packs up his books and heads for the dining hall while it’s in between meals. He pushes open the door to the kitchens to see that someone else is already here. “Oh, hey, Mercedes. What brings you here on this fine, sunny afternoon?”

"Claude!" She's as bright and bubbly as ever, smiling at him from behind the countertop. "You have wonderful timing. I was here to try and make Dimitri something special, but I don't have much of a taste for spices." Oddly enough, though, it doesn't look like she's preparing for dinner, more... for baking. "You don't happen to have some free time, do you...?"

”As a matter of fact, I just finished studying for the day. So as long as you don’t mind if I snag something to eat, I’m all yours.” He hops up to sit on a part of the counter she doesn’t seem to be using currently. “What’s the occasion? Not that Mitya doesn’t deserve something special every day.” So far, Mercedes is the only person other than Dimitri himself who's heard Claude call him that. Claude didn't mean for that to happen, but there's just something about Mercedes that makes everyone feel comfortable around her. As it turns out, Claude isn't immune, much as that disturbs him sometimes. He's starting to understand why the prince took to confiding in her, although he still isn't sure quite how to feel about that, so he tries not to think about it.

"I agree, but really, it's because of something that happened the other day." With her sleeves rolled up, Mercedes decides she has everything she needs, and sets out to melt the chocolate first. "While our class was making its way back to the monastery, there was a kind lady selling sweets at the roadside!" Her voice drops lower. "He denied it endlessly, but I could tell Dimitri wanted to have some... and so I thought, why shouldn't I try to find some kind of sweets he can enjoy, hm?"

Claude smiles. “Oh yeah, he did say you made some of my recipes for him. So what are we baking, and do you want me to go get some of my own spices? I can guarantee they’re more Mitya’s speed than whatever they’ve got here.”

"Oh! That would be lovely. Do you think you have any that would go well with chocolate?"

”I'm not much of a baker. Why don’t I just bring them all and you can tell me? ;)” He drops down from the counter and jogs off to his room - it’s not far, so it doesn’t take long. When he comes back, he’s carrying a satchel bearing the head of an antlered stag, embroidered in what is clearly a classic Faerghan style to anyone who would be familiar with that kind of thing--a gift from Dimitri, sent along with one of his letters a year or so ago. Claude sets the satchel on the counter and starts pulling things out: little jars and vials and packets of various spices and dried peppers and hot sauces.

Mercedes' eyes light up at the assortment, and excitedly, though still carefully, she roots through, cautiously opening packets and jars to test their aromas. She finds quite a few she likes and could use for other meals for Dimitri, too... and eventually stumbles upon one that stops her in her tracks. "Oh... oh that's quite nice! 'Allspice,' hm? What do you think of this for chocolate cookies?"

Claude resumes his countertop perch. “That should work as long as we use enough of it - it’s pretty strong, but the chocolate might dilute it.”

"Wonderful." The little jar is set aside just in time for Mercedes to turn her attention back to the chocolate. "You know, Claude, if I'm honest, I'm very glad to have gotten to meet you. Dimitri talks a great deal of you, and it's relieving to know you're just as kind and attentive to him as he makes you out to be..."

 _Dimitri said that about me to Mercedes?_ Claude didn't realize the prince would talk about him like that to _other_ people, although in retrospect he feels like he shouldn't be surprised. “Don’t let him praise me without praising himself - we look out for each _other_.”

"I assumed so. I know that I haven't been with him nearly as long as his other friends have, but he's spoken of you in ways I haven't heard him talk about anyone else." She goes to work doing what she can to grind up the allspice, and then blends it in with the rest of her dough. "He tells me that you met after... the Tragedy. It's obviously hard on him, but for every bad thing he talks about from that time, I swear that there's just as much good that usually has to do with you!"

Claude can't hold back the blush this time. "That is when we met in person, but we'd been corresponding in letters for a while before that. House Riegan and House Blaiddyd have always stayed pretty close, so when I was first recognized as my grandfather's heir, Mitya and his father both sent letters to welcome me. And we just kept writing after that." He swings his feet a little. "That year he spent in Derdriu...well, let's just say it was good for both of us."

"I can imagine. Ser Rodrigue had quite a bit of praise for you too," she says, with no shortage of amusement, "but perhaps what I noticed first was when he told me that he'd never seen Dimitri be so open with someone after everything that happened. I have to thank you for that, for being that kind of person to him."

 _Can that really be--_ No, he knows that's true, Mitya's told him so plenty of times. Still, it's...odd, hearing it from someone else. Not to mention from Rodrigue. What is she thanking him for, though? All he did was desperately cling to the only person he's ever fully trusted... "Sounds like you care about him quite a bit, too. If anything, I should be thanking you for helping him when I couldn't be there."

"Even if it were not my job, I care for him a great deal. He reminds me of my little brother." She takes a pause to focus on the cookies, swiping a finger's worth of dough to taste... and beams, then holds out her spoon with a dollop of cookie dough on it in offering to Claude. "Here, taste! I think that this may be it."

"Whoa, you're done already? You could have put me to work, you know." It sounds less like an offer of help and more like disappointment. But he does take the spoon and try the dough. "Mmm...I think he'll like them." He hands the spoon back.

"Not done—the cookies have to bake, and I've got to make the frosting, too. But most importantly... I'm going to need your help shaping them. I had a cute idea of what to make them look like!" She seems utterly at home in the monastery kitchen, seeing as she finds a baking pan with almost no effort, and ushers Claude toward the basin to wash his hands.

 _Shaping them?_ For all that he taught himself to cook so he could make things Dimitri could taste, Claude's never baked anything before, and he doubts there's much he could do in the kitchen that Mercedes couldn't. But he obliges, washing and drying his hands before he comes back to stand beside her at the counter. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"I do. I haven't gotten to see him ever since I came to the Kingdom, but I love him dearly... he and Dimitri are alike in a lot of ways."

"Ah. Sorry to hear you've been separated. I never got along with any of my siblings, myself, but--" _But Dimitri once said we were like family._ "...but I can imagine how hard that must be. In what ways is he like Mitya?"

"I hope that this doesn't sound mean, but... they're both quite self-sacrificing." There's a hint there, a note of something in her voice that passes just as quickly as it appeared, and Mercedes carries on dutifully doling out portions of dough for each cookie. "And very kind, though easily misunderstood. Oh, so what do you think of this: I was going to shape them into little lion paws! Nothing elaborate, so hopefully they shouldn't go all misshapen in the oven..."

 _Self-sacrificing..._ It isn’t how Claude would have put it, but he supposes she has a point. He’s also not sure about 'easily misunderstood;' it's always seemed to him like it was willful, like people didn’t _want_ to understand Dimitri because then they’d have to face the fact that they could never be as good a person. But he doesn’t say any of that. “Ha, I love it!” He eyes the dollops of dough. “So we just...sculpt them?”

"Mm, like this." It's a simple enough demonstration, rolling the dough into little balls and sticking them together to make cute little paw shapes, and carefully flattening them just a little against the baking sheet. "Make them small, so we can have a lot of them. I know that the others are probably going to snatch a few for themselves," she giggles, "and I want Dimitri to have enough for just himself."

”I’ll just set aside a batch of them for him before anyone else gets to them.” Claude watches how she makes the paw shapes and does the same...for a while. Soon, though, he starts shaping some as variants: flowers, lion heads, deer heads, and one that’s (supposed to be, at least) a wyvern. “I’m putting this one aside for Mitya too,” pointing out the wyvern one.

It's clear to Mercedes that he's enjoying this, and that he's found some inspiration, at that... and she hardly has the heart to tell him his cookies will probably end up more blobby than anything. "I'm sure he'll love them," she says, and takes pause after she's finished to observe, and to look over the ones he's done already. Seemingly satisfied, Mercedes ignites the oven and gingerly sets the sheet inside. "Alright, frosting... does Dimitri happen to like wyverns?"

”Oh, uh...well, wyverns are more my thing, but if he knows I made this one he’ll understand why.” He peers over her shoulder to see what she’s doing now. “What color is the frosting?”

"I see... oh, the frosting is going to be a light brown color. With different spices than the cookies." This part she can do almost without thinking, and so Mercedes mulls the question over as she whips it together. "Why?"

”Ah, no reason. Just wondering if it might be white frosting. Anything else I can do?”

"They'll need to be iced eventually, but not until after they're out of the oven and cooled down." Mercedes sighs, and takes a dish towel to wipe carefully at her hands before looking to Claude. Her smile hasn't once faded. "You've been very kind, helping me without so much as a complaint. I have to thank you again."

”Heh, no problem. You said it was for Mitya, so thank _you_ for letting me help." He shrugs. "Besides, I like trying my hand at new things. It’s always good to have lots of options for schemes. ;)”

"You're welcome! And you're a wonderful helper in the kitchen. I hope that you'll be free the next time I bake something for him." There isn't much of a pause between this and her next words—no, she doesn't hesitate at all. "I truly do hate to pry, but I've been really quite curious! How long have the two of you been together?"

Claude's in the process of packing his spices back into their bag when she asks. The moment the words sink in, the little glass bottle of dried pepper flakes he has in his hand falls from his fingers and shatters, sending flakes everywhere on the floor as he stares at her. “Wh-what?”

The crash almost has Mercedes jumping, clearly taken aback. She...was truly mistaken, it seems. "I-- oh, I'm sorry! Are you... not?" Not that his reaction wasn't enough of an answer, she supposes. She rushes around the counter, mindful of the glass, and crouches to begin cleaning it up.

”Uh—no no, let me! I dropped it, I’ll clean it up.” Claude grabs a towel and crouches too, trying to scoop the flakes and bits of glass into the towel. “We...” He clears his throat, looking at the work rather than at her. “No, we’re...we’re not.” His mind runs in frantic circles for a moment—if Mercedes thinks so, then the rest of the Lions probably do too, and pretty soon all those rumors are going to start again, and this time Mitya’s going to get caught up in them, and... _Not good._

Mercedes waits until they've adequately cleaned the... mess... before she speaks up again, concern woven into each word. "Claude, are you alright?" Her voice is always soft, but even more so now, almost a whisper. She lifts a hand, likely to touch him, though quickly decides better and moves instead to take the towel-wrapped shards and deposit them carefully on the counter. "I'm sorry, I really am. I shouldn't have assumed, but... oh, I'm so sorry--"

Claude flashes her his easy smile, brushing pepper flakes from his hands and quickly becoming as casual as always. "Hey, it's fine, don't worry about it. Really! It's no big deal. You just caught me by surprise, that's all. Sorry to have made a mess of the kitchen..."

"You don't have anything to apologize to me for; it isn't my kitchen, and you helped me clean it up." She's troubled, though, quite deeply, to know that they all might have miscalculated... when Hilda remarked so idly about Claude's obliviousness, she didn't think it could be so... so-- "I don't want him to spoil his own surprise, but I know that some days he'll stop by around this time to get his lunch... if I prepared him some lunch, would you be able to take it to him for me? I'll need quite some time before the cookies are finished."

Claude silently thanks her for giving him an excuse to get out of here. "Sure thing. I can even make it myself if you want to focus on the frosting. Guess I won't be using the pepper flakes, though, huh? ;)"

Mercedes averts her eyes, briefly, before moving to the pantry. "I suppose not..." She doubts he would take another apology from her, so instead she goes about finding the ingredients for something simple—sweet buns ought to do. "Do you think one of the village markets at the foot of the mountain path would have any? I wonder..."

"They might--I'll go check, maybe tomorrow. Or I can just have my grandfather send more from Derdriu. The port market has all _kinds_ of things you can't get anywhere else in Fodlan."

"I'm glad. If you'd said they were some sort of rare kind of spice, I don't think I could live with myself." It's a comfortable silence again that has Mercedes splitting her efforts, checking the cookies every now and again while she waits for the buns to finish baking, though it isn't long before she's pulling them from the oven with a satisfied smile. "There we go! And there's plenty here for you to share with Dimitri until the cookies are done."

Claude's not sure why she's blaming herself, but figures she'll just apologize again if he says anything about it, so instead he just enjoys the smells of things baking and watches her work. He can see why Dimitri relies on her so much, but he can't help thinking there's more behind those sweet smiles than meets the eye...hmm. "Oh, right--I came originally to eat lunch myself." A bit sheepish, as he helps her pack the buns into a basket with a few napkins. "Thanks, Mercedes. Don't forget, that pan of cookies I shaped is just for Mitya. Don't let Ingrid or Sylvain steal them! ;)"

With that, Claude gives her a little wave and heads off to find Dimitri, and only then does he turn his thoughts back to her question and all its implications. She was _so_ apologetic that he suspects there was something more to it than idle curiosity or a simple misunderstanding. His heart hammers an anxious rhythm against his chest as he resolves to find out what it could be.


	9. Garreg Mach: A Peaceful Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri eat lunch and talk about the future, while Claude tries his best not to obsess over Mercedes' question and its implications.
> 
> i.e. More fluff than you can shake a stick at.

Claude's deep in thought, trying to plan for how to squash these rumors for which Mercedes has become the face, in his mind, before they ruin Dimitri's reputation. He's only trying, though, because his mind keeps wandering to the question itself. _'How long have you two been together?'_ She must have had a reason to assume so...and the more Claude thinks about it, the more he starts wondering whether there really is something to her assumption. Sure, he might have thought about maybe kissing Dimitri back there in the woods, but a fleeting attraction isn't the same thing as...being _together_. 'Together' is supposed to be a big deal, isn't it? He didn't _think_ he saw Dimitri that way...but true to Mercedes' word, the prince is on his way to the dining hall when he stumbles upon Claude, and is beaming the moment he spots him. "There you are! After not having seen you all day, I was beginning to worry..." He stops much closer to him, and regards the basket in his clutches with a raised brow.

The prince's voice jars Claude out of his thoughts. He looks up, blinking a bit like a deer in lantern lights for a few seconds before his usual smile rescues him. "Oh, hey, Mitya. Sorry--I lost track of time studying and then I was starving. I ran into Mercedes in the kitchen and she gave me these to bring to you so we could eat them." He holds up the basket. Now that Dimitri's right in front of him, he can't _stop_ thinking about it. Is that why he wanted to listen to the prince read stories for hours, and why it felt different to sleep close to him, and why-- _dammit, pay attention, Claude._

"Oh, I see. Quite kind of her." Dimitri lifts a hand, bearing a few smaller tomes in his grasp. "I found a few interesting things I wished to share with you, so what better time to enjoy it together? I know just the place as well, if you're alright with a little bit of a detour to get there."

Claude can't help surreptitiously glancing around to see whether anyone might watch them disappear together, before nodding up at Dimitri. "Of course--let's go!"

Their destination is a little out of the way, though still within the monastery walls—Dimitri brings him to the greenhouse, and then through the small greenery space between it and the dorms. There isn't much back here behind the greenhouse save for a plot of lush grass enclosed by thick hedges; and it's nearly silent, save for the sounds of crickets and birds nearby. Dimitri takes a seat against the outer greenhouse wall without ceremony. "It's a wonder there are so many peaceful corners tucked away within the monastery walls."

Claude relaxes once they make it to the mostly private space, sitting down across from Dimitri and putting the basket down in the grass between them. "What surprises me is that no one else seems to seek them out. But hey--more for us. ;)" He pulls the top napkin off the basket to reveal the pile of sweet buns inside. "Ta-da!"

Dimitri had wondered what the familiar smell was. He doesn't hesitate for long, shooting Claude a smile before he reaches in to snatch a roll. The other hand opens one of the tomes and balances it carefully against his knee. "This first one isn't quite so... groundbreaking, I suppose. But I thought that it may be of interest to you." He flips through until he finds the page before he offers the book to Claude, and points to an entry of what appears to be a memoir or journal of some kind, dated... nearly a thousand years ago. "Admittedly, they were loathe to part with it at first, but the library attendants eventually came around to loaning it to me."

Claude starts in on his own bun, which only serves to remind him how hungry he was even before the cookie shenanigans, and he finishes it before Dimitri even finds the page he's looking for. He's biting into a second one when he takes the book with his other hand and splays his fingers over the pages to keep them open while he reads...oh. It's an account of the courtship and marriage of one of the first Goneril scions and a daughter of a then-influential Almyran merchant family. Claude even recognizes the family name, although nowadays it's much less prominent. The passage speaks at great length of the love between the two, and how Fódlan and Almyra both celebrated this union as a promising sign for the years to come. It even goes into some detail about the blending of their cultural traditions at the wedding...

Claude almost chokes on his bun. "O-oh, hey, that's--that's great. I mean--" _What are you saying? Get it together._ He smiles. "That's really inspiring. I wish stories like this were still told in both places. I'm guessing House Goneril goes out of its way to make sure they aren't." _Are Dimitri and Mercedes_ conspiring _or something? Can this seriously be a coincidence?_ Focusing on Dimitri instead of the book doesn't really help, as the prince's beaming smile reminds Claude of the sun emerging from behind clouds, and... _Oh, no._

Dimitri is definitely concerned about Claude's initial reaction, but he seems to find his footing again quickly. He takes a bite of one of his buns, and hums. "There are a few such tales from Faerghus, of a daughter of Gautier running off with an adventuress from Sreng, or even a pair of star-crossed lovers between the Kingdom and Empire, but... I must admit that I was particularly struck by this account. I wouldn't have fathomed that Hilda could be descended from Almyrans, but I suppose that... it makes sense."

 _Ah. Of course._ Dimitri wanted to show this to him because of his dreams for the future, obviously, and as a parallel of his own dual heritage, and for this curious bit of history about Hilda's family. Why would it have been for any other reason? He tries hard to keep the embarrassed flush from his cheeks as he swallows the last bite of the roll and nods. "There are more Leicester families with distant Almyran relatives than you'd think and vice versa, but no one ever talks about them. Everyone likes to pretend they don't exist." _Just like they always wished I didn't exist._

"I can't say that I'm surprised, but... the more that I learn, the more I can only be disappointed. Dissatisfied." Only yet another thing to file away, another thing Dimitri can hope to change in the future. He finishes his bun and moves to take another. "Mm. But that brings me to my second book here-" The second tome is a little newer, but only in outward appearance; it's been rebound once, clearly, because the pages inside are yellowed even worse than those of the memoir. The page that he shows to Claude is a sketch, a rough illustration of what appears to be a map, only... "Look, Claude. I can't speak to the accuracy of it, obviously, but this is a journal left behind by a band of merchants hailing from Morfis. This map... it spans beyond anything else I've ever seen."

Claude takes this second book carefully, brushing crumbs from his fingers first and pulling the map close. "Whoa..." He follows the lines of the map beyond Fódlan, beyond Morfis and Almyra, to lands he's heard about in his childhood, to places even he's never heard of, far-off places he can only imagine. "Mitya..." he breathes. "This is amazing! I don't know how you convinced them to let you take this out of the library, but I am definitely making a copy before you give it back." He looks up at Dimitri, smiling with excitement. "After all, we're still planning to travel the world, right?"

"Of course." Dimitri... does not want to get into what it took to convince them, really, and so he leans forward to get a better look at the book. "It's one thing to know that more exists, and another to have something more... tangible than that knowledge, isn't it? It's quite astounding, to have names for places I could only have ever imagined before..."

Now that Mercedes has brought these thoughts to the forefront of Claude's mind, he can't shake them when Dimitri leans closer to him...they're close enough now that it wouldn't take much for him to lean his head against the prince's, and although he's done that very thing many times before, he's sort of afraid to now. He feels like he's become hyperaware of the other boy's proximity and his every movement. And it's weird. And he's not sure what to think about it, so he tries _not_ to. "We have to find out more about these other countries. And this island here--" He points to a far-flung island well off the shore on the other side of Almyra. "I've heard a few stories about it, but it's always been mysterious, even at home. One story even says the island itself is a giant turtle!"

"A giant turtle? I wonder why..." Dimitri settles back against the wall, humming. "There are some descriptions further in, quite interesting... the route they supposedly took is mapped out rather efficiently on another page.

”I hope the librarian doesn’t mind if this book happens to mysteriously go missing forever.” Claude's not even really kidding, though it sounds flippant enough.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't take a book checked out in _my_ name, at least. The last thing I need is them emptying my coffers for repayment someday, Claude."

Claude chuckles. “Don’t worry, Mitya. You can return it on time. I’ll get my hands on it again one way or another. ;)”

Dimitri sighs, perhaps a little wistful, and rests his head against the wall. "It's a decent place to start for our own journey, hm?" His smile grows softer, fonder, and his mind wanders to follow that path. He knows, of course, it's borderline impossible. He would have to give up his claim to the throne entirely to afford the time for such a journey, and waiting to abdicate to an heir... just as unlikely. He doubts he would live long enough to see any child of his ascend the throne at all. But what a fantasy it is to entertain, braving the wider world with Claude beside him... His eyes close. "How fantastic it would be."

Claude loses himself in reading for a moment, until that sigh brings his eyes back up to Dimitri. “You mean, it _will_ be.” He puts on a playful smile, but internally he’s frowning. Did Dimitri mean any of the things they’ve promised each other? “Don’t tell me you’ve given up already?”

"No, you're right. It merely... it feels like it will be forever before I could get away with leaving Faerghus, without consequences."

"Mm." Claude gives the map one more look and then closes the tome, resting his chin in his hand propped up on his knee and looking at Dimitri. “When is your coronation supposed to happen? Is it as soon as we graduate?”

"Thereabouts, yes... at least, that is the date that was initially proposed. Rodrigue, my uncle, and his advisors are all of differing opinions concerning when I ought to inherit the throne... but I am trying not to concern myself with it so much. Not yet."

"Well, then maybe you can not concern yourself with it for a little longer than planned." Claude's eyes carry a sort of calculated excitement, impish anticipation. "I doubt it would be that hard to convince Rodrigue to give you a few extra months, right? After graduation, we'll take a trip. Just me and you. See as many places as we can see before they really need you to take up the crown."

Dimitri opens his eyes to confirm the look he expected to be on Claude's face, with that tone. "Oh, it isn't Rodrigue. He and my uncle are more or less in agreement: I am... not yet ready to claim such a birthright. I'm inclined to agree with them as well, but it would seem that my uncle's advisors have had enough of his antics and indecision."

"Well, fortunately, his advisors aren't in charge. _He_ is." Claude sets the book aside and scoots over to sit just in front of Dimitri. "I know we both have a lot of work to do once we're done here. And you're right--once we take up our respective mantles, it'll be harder to find time. So why can't we take some time for ourselves, while we still can? Just for once?"

"What... do you have in mind, then?"

Claude's smile spreads wide across his face. "We'll take a wyvern...maybe _my_ wyvern...and leave for a while. You can visit...my home, and then we'll go to Morfis and Dagda and Brigid...I mean, we might have to choose only a few of those, but still. I want to show you what's over the mountains, Mitya. And I want to see what else there is. With you."

Dimitri takes a silent moment to consider it, and even lets the beginnings of a smile curve his lips. Just a little. "You make it difficult for me not to think about it... it's horribly distracting, and yet I don't want to stop."

 _'It's horribly distracting, and yet I don't want to stop.'_ It's like Dimitri read Claude's mind, though not exactly about the same thing... "Then don't," Claude says simply, with a little shrug. "It's good to have something to look forward to. I know _I'm_ looking forward to it." The urge to grab the prince's hands is strong, but instead he pulls his knees up to cross his arms over them and rest his chin there, looking up at Dimitri.

When Claude meets his eyes, the prince seems struck suddenly. "As am I." Dimitri is left grasping for words, but finds his footing quickly. "You said that you were studying before this... not that I think you to be the less-than-studious sort, but I have heard whispers, I suppose, of the things that your professor teaches. They are... somewhat unconventional, yes?"

Claude blinks at the abrupt change of subject, jarring him out of the way his thoughts were starting to wander to imagining discovering the whole world with Dimitri by his side... "Unconventional? Teach? Ha, I guess you could say that. That's one of the things I like about them. What kind of whispers have you heard?"

"Well, I have heard both good and bad things... what I hear of their tactics and prowess with weapons only makes me wish I could have classes with them, but others speak to such a lack of... structure, I suppose? Is it true that your professor simply failed to show up to one of your lecture periods?"

Claude laughs. "Two, actually. Don't look so scandalized! I took over, it was fine. And sure, sometimes we have classes at night or at dawn. Or Teach takes us somewhere outside the monastery without telling anyone but me where we're going or why. Once they didn't even tell me." He shrugs. "I see it as a good thing. Keeps everybody on their toes. Besides, if every class were predictable, they'd be pretty boring." He notices a strand of hair falling into Dimitri's eyes and has to stop himself from reaching out to brush it aside...so he keeps talking to distract himself from it. "I mean, I'm sure your lectures are great, but Hanneman doesn't really seem like the 'think outside the box' type."

The sound in Dimitri's throat is perhaps the most un-princely thing he's done thus far. "I have the utmost respect for Professor Hanneman's knowledge, especially in regards to crests and the inner workings of the nobility, but... his delivery is drier than your grandfather's dinnertime conversations, Claude. I cannot for the life of me take much more of it, and that is an admission that brings me great shame."

Claude tries not to laugh this time, but he can't help it. "Sorry, Mitya, I swear I'm not laughing at your suffering! It's a shame I can't sit in on classes with you and keep you entertained like I used to at the dinner table." He tilts his head back, thinking. "I bet I could get Teach to agree to do the occasional joint lecture with both our classes together. After all," he adopts a serious and formal tone that sounds suspiciously like a Seteth impression, "each professor of this elite institution is a true gem, a peerless repository of unique knowledge and skill."

It's Dimitri's turn to struggle to speak without laughing, but he does a much better job than Claude at hiding it. He clears his throat and tries again. "I-I suppose you've a point, yes... see if your professor is open to the possibility, then. I would greatly enjoy the chance to work with you in an official capacity."

”Ah, excellent news, Your Princeliness. I shall make the inquiry straight away.” Claude grins.

"Wonderful." Dimitri moves to take one of the books, the Goneril memoir, and wipes carefully at its pages before closing it and tucking it carefully aside. He smiles. "If we can't share a house, perhaps this will be the best alternative."

”Definitely better than trying to convince Seteth to let you and your whole house transfer to the Deer. ;)” Claude grabs one last bun and stands, brushing grass and crumbs from his uniform. “Where are you off to now?”

"Mm? I'm not certain. I don't have much of anything planned... and I have gone to the library so often these past few days that I can still smell it now."

”Sounds like we need to get you out of here for a while, then. Want to show me another one of your secret forest trails?”

"I suppose it couldn't hurt." More time with Claude is a treat regardless, but with the added bonus of privacy? Dimitri joins the other boy on his feet. "I would hate to monopolize your time should your class need you... you aren't expecting any more 'surprise nighttime lectures' from your professor, are you?"

Claude shrugs. "As far as I know, we're done for the day--if that changes, I have no doubt that Teach would find me, even if I didn't want to be found."

"Then the matter is settled. I do have some other hiding places I would be happy to show you."  
  
They set off across the monastery and out into the woods, chatting idly about potential topics for this cross-class seminar and Church staff they might want to invite--Claude immediately suggests Shamir, Dimitri adds that Catherine would be a fine choice as well. The chatter and the planning help to keep Claude's mind occupied with something other than the distraction Mercedes has cursed him with.


	10. Garreg Mach: Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come to think of it, you haven't really had much of a chance to talk to Hilda, have you? We should change that."
> 
> "I... wouldn't mind, but I can't say I see Hilda taking much of an interest." Dimitri's not a conversationalist, nor is he too fond of making new friends (or even really willing to), but... he should attempt. If she and Claude can still be friends, even after breaking up-- Ah. Dimitri sighs, and forces his shoulders to relax before they can stiffen. He hadn't meant to think about... that. "You know that I'm no good with people."
> 
> "Oh trust me, she'll take an interest. She's been wanting to meet you ever since I first talked her ear off about you. And got made fun of relentlessly for a whole year about it." Claude chuckles. "All you have to remember is not to let her flatter you into doing her any favors. The rest is easy, she's friendly."
> 
> "I'll be certain to keep that in mind." He isn't keen, admittedly. But he knows that Hilda means... a great deal to Claude, as much as he hasn't been able to sort out his feelings on the matter. And if Claude can make the effort to know Mercedes, Dimitri can do the same for him with Hilda, can't he? "... I will try."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little longer than usual. Hilda shows up, too!

The walk in the woods is pleasant, but Claude remains distracted. He has no reason to change anything he's been doing, he tells himself--no reason to put any distance between himself and Dimitri. Besides, he would be surprised if anything of the kind had ever entered the prince's mind. Although...Mercedes asked _Claude_. Why? She talks to Dimitri much more often. What if they _have_ had some kind of conversation about it before? Maybe he should--

Claude's whirling thoughts are interrupted by their arrival at their destination. It's a simpler wooded sanctuary closer to the academy that Dimitri brings Claude to today, a much smaller clearing surrounding an old tree. It's darker here than the spring was. There's plenty of room to sit at the base of the tree, though, and Dimitri takes a seat with his back to the trunk. "This one is much easier to get to than the other... and far easier to remember. I've had cats from the monastery follow me here before."

Claude takes a deep breath of fresh forest air. "I feel like I'm slacking off in finding secret passages and good napping spots. You're definitely still winning the prize." He sits down beside Dimitri and grins at the thought of him playing with cats. "Who knows, maybe some of your feline pals will make an appearance today, too. Too bad we didn't bring anything to feed them with."

"Unfortunately for them, they would be competing for my attention." Dimitri's glad that he can find these nice little reprieves for the both of them if Claude himself is too busy to. From here, they're sat close enough to one another for their shoulders to touch. "And I'm afraid it's really no contest."

Claude doesn't dare glance over to see whether Dimitri can see his face turn several different shades of pink. _This is getting ridiculous_ , he scolds himself, putting a smile on over all this confusion. Almost as though in defiance of it, he leans his head on Dimitri's shoulder, just like he used to, determined to enjoy his time with the prince regardless of foolish, traitorous thoughts. "Those poor kitties, starved for attention. I'm afraid I'll have no mercy on them, either. I take competition _very_ seriously, you know."

"I would expect nothing less of you." Claude hasn't quite... taken this sort of initiative since they've been reunited, but Dimitri won't miss the chance to appreciate their closeness again. The breeze is soft and warm where it breaks through the trees to reach them and Claude is safe beside him... "I must thank Mercedes when I next see her, both for lunch and for sending you to me. There's been a great deal on my mind lately, and... it helps, to have you near."

 _For sending me to him...wait a minute._ Claude thinks back. This wasn't the first time she sent Claude to bring something to Dimitri that she could easily have brought herself. Even the very first time he met her, she did it. Has she been...doing it on purpose, this whole time? "I could say the same. The Deer are great and all, but they're not you." Not even close. Most of them still act like having Claude around is more a nuisance than anything. But at least that means they might underestimate him. Better than the alternative. "Speaking of Mercedes," casually, "I still feel like I don't really know her all that well. There's gotta be more behind that sweet, mothering exterior, right? What's she _really_ like?"

" _Really_ like, hm?" Dimitri thinks, but not for long. "I suppose you could say there is, although... likely not in the way you'd think." He doesn't hesitate to make himself comfortable though, and leans his head against Claude's. "She's actually quite a bit older than us, you know—Mercedes is twenty-two. But she still adores scary stories, telling them especially, and can be quite forgetful."

"Twenty-two, huh?" Claude used the word 'mothering' because, as he understands it, that's the word they'd use in Fódlan to describe someone...doting like that, a caretaker. But she's nothing like what he's used to in an actual mother, his own or other people's, and if he were being honest he might admit that all the doting Mercedes does kind of unsettles him. In his experience, people who treat others that way do it because they want something. ...or at least, people who have treated _him_ that way in the past have wanted something. Other than Dimitri, obviously. But Mercedes treats everyone the same way, Lion or not, and he's been slowly getting more comfortable with her.

"Mm." Dimitri isn't certain how to put this delicately, nor does he wish to disclose more about her that she can't quite consent to... He purses his lips briefly. "Her past, and her crest, too, have troubled her as they've done for you and I. Much worse, really. She hides her pain well, though. I will not speak of it, but perhaps you ought to ask her, now that the two of you are becoming more acquainted with one another?"

"Maybe I will." There's actually no 'maybe' about it--Claude's definitely going to ask her--but he doesn't want Dimitri to know how eagerly he's already pouncing on her secrets. "Seems like almost everyone with a Crest has some kind of story like that, doesn't it?"

The look the prince gives him is nothing short of... tickled, really. "Noticing a pattern, are we?" Not that he intends to shame Claude for it. "Fódlan values crests above all, even above the person who bears the crest, Claude. You know this. That she could have such an experience as a child of the Empire only cements my determination... not that I was unaware other places on this continent are afflicted by such biases."

"Hey, gimme a break. It's not quite as big a deal in Leicester as it is in the Kingdom, remember." And an almost non-existent deal in Almyra, he doesn't say, though Dimitri already knows. It took Claude a while to really understand just _how_ important a Crest was in Fódlan, and much of that understanding came from the prince himself. Even now... Claude didn't grow up with tales of the Saints or the Goddess, or the 10 Elites, and he feels that even with the knowledge of it, he can't fully internalize it the way Fódlaners do. The whole Crest thing still feels like an enigma to him, one he's learning to slowly unravel.

"Of course I know that." Claude speaks more softly now. "It's just...hard to accept that it really is like that everywhere, here. And that no one escapes unscathed, even with all the good intentions in the world. I asked my mother once, you know, whether she knew I had her family's Crest before the first time it kicked in. She hadn't even explained them to me before that. And she wouldn't answer the question. She said, 'What does it matter? Here, you rise or fall by what you've earned with your own hands. Never forget that.' And I guess I haven't."

The mention of Claude's mother brings Dimitri a myriad of feelings he doesn't quite know how to process. To have a mother – to have both of his parents still – Dimitri has never held it against him, or even really quite envied him, not after hearing stories of the things they say to him, and do to him, too, sometimes... This isn't so bad, on the list of things he's been told before. But to refuse to tell him about Crests, refusing to explain how she's burdened him with her very inheritance is... the thought leaves Dimitri simmering. "... I see. Well, despite my bias, know I am always a resource for you." The words are a little strained, when they leave him.

"I know. Sorry, Mitya. I didn't mean to upset you." Without thinking, Claude reaches over to clasp Dimitri's hand. "Anyway, I steered us off topic. All I meant to say was that Mercedes is important to you, so I should try to get to know her better. And she's been nothing but nice to me so far, which is a plus."

Dimitri grips Claude's hand right back, without a word about it. "There's no need to apologize... I appreciate your effort greatly, just as much as I am glad you two get along. She would be the person I trust most, were you not here, not to say that she even approaches my trust in you, Claude. It would be nice for two of my most favorite people to get along."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure we'll get along just fine." Even if it's a little awkward, after the dining hall incident... "Come to think of it, you haven't really had much of a chance to talk to Hilda, have you? We should change that, too."

"I... wouldn't mind, but I can't say I see Hilda taking much of an interest." Dimitri's not a conversationalist, nor is he too fond of making new friends (or even really willing to), but... he should attempt. If she and Claude can still be friends, even after breaking up-- _Ah._ Dimitri sighs, and forces his shoulders to relax before they can stiffen. He hadn't meant to think about... that. "You know that I'm no good with people."

"Oh trust me, she'll take an interest. She's been wanting to meet you ever since I first talked her ear off about you. And got made fun of relentlessly for a whole year about it." Claude chuckles. "All you have to remember is not to let her flatter you into doing her any favors. The rest is easy, she's friendly."

"I'll be certain to keep that in mind." Not that it will be hard. Dimitri's come to care a lot less for trying to please everyone, doubtlessly in part because of Claude himself. He... isn't keen, admittedly, on familiarizing himself with any others just yet, not when coming to know the students of his own house has proven overwhelming on its worst days. But he knows that Hilda means... a great deal to Claude, as much as he hasn't been able to sort out his feelings on the matter. And if Claude can make the effort to know Mercedes, Dimitri can do the same for him with Hilda, can't he? "... I will try."

Claude gives Dimitri’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks.” He finds his mind wandering back to other people who are important to Dimitri, ones he hasn’t really spoken to much. He decides to make an effort to talk to them, too, when their houses come together for a lecture - if for no other reason than to gauge what they think of him. Sylvain has proven surprisingly difficult to read; Ingrid’s so formal and stiff all the time that it’s hard to tell where formality ends and her feelings begin; and...well, and then there’s Felix. Better not dwell on that whole can of worms right now. He sighs, getting more comfortable. “I’m glad we did this.” It gets exhausting, he thinks, putting on the Claude mask for everyone all the time...Dimitri’s the only one he can trust enough to put it down, even if he can’t ever do it fully.

"As am I... since I doubt you've found much time to rest on your own, especially." The Claude he knows is fond of his naps and cherishes his moments of reprieve more than anyone else Dimitri is acquainted with, and is one of the most hardworking people he knows as a result, when he should truly dedicate himself to something. The way that Claude relaxes against him stirs something in Dimitri's chest, and he heaves a breath, turns until his nose brushes the crown of the other boy's head. "And I've missed this."

”Me too.” If Claude thinks about this too hard, he’ll start—well, thinking about it too hard. So he won’t...for now. It’s easier with Dimitri right here. “Mitya, after we graduate...” He’s not even sure himself where he’s going with this, so he stops. “Never mind.”

"What were you going to say?" Dimitri is gentle in his coaxing, not merely out of curiosity; if Claude doesn't allow himself to say it, he'll only torture himself thinking about it until he finally does say it.

 _Ah, of course Dimitri isn’t going to let me get away with that._ Claude had almost forgotten the downside to having someone he can trust... “Just looking forward to getting our work started for real, that’s all.” Which isn’t untrue, but also is definitely not what he was going to say.

 _It must be serious, then._ Dimitri hums, but doesn't demand anything more from him, not for now... it's either quite serious, or something he hadn't quite... thought through. "I understand. I'm the same." The prince sighs, and leans his head back against the tree, lets his eyes drift closed. "But I won't allow my anticipation to keep me from enjoying my time with you now."

"Neither will I." Claude's almost forgotten that he's still holding Dimitri's hand in his own, as he closes his eyes too, still using the prince's shoulder as a pillow. "Though I can't help but wonder how much enjoying we're really doing, if we spend half our time together napping." It's... _mostly_ a joke.

Dimitri... must think on that, for a moment. "I don't think that I napped nearly this much before I met you... I was never relaxed enough for such a thing." Not that Dimitri is making any accusations, or anything of the like. "But it also does not help that our studies have grown intensive, and quickly at that. These past few days I've studied from dawn until dusk."

"I'll count that as a victory, then, helping you get your royal beauty sleep." Claude grins, though Dimitri's not looking to see it. "But I know what you mean. Teach might be unorthodox, but they're no slacker. Not to mention all the training we have to do for all these missions and mock battles. _And_ dealing with everybody's questions and complaints when Teach isn't around. And our uh, extracurricular investigations, of course."

"Mn... I only wish my teacher could be so unorthodox, perhaps, if it meant not going through day after day of lectures..." All of Dimitri's physical training has been self-guided and outside of class time, for the most part, either by himself or sparring with his housemates, and it's all just one large concoction of exhaustion, really, having to balance so much so suddenly. "That does remind me... this particular upcoming mock battle. It sounds as if your professor will ensure the lot of you are prepared for it."

"Oh, have no doubt, the Golden Deer will be a fearsome foe. Teach does a lot of hands-on training. And they don't fight much like a knight, either, so between their unique battle experience and my strategic genius, I wish you luck, Mitya." Claude's grinning again.

"I will need it, if I'm to survive the exhaustion long enough to step foot on the field." Dimitri musters a smile of his own now, wry even if only he knows of it. "But I await the day eagerly when I can see you in true battle, or... as close as we may yet come to it, without our lives endangered."

"Ah, I see now that by helping you get some rest, I'm sabotaging my own efforts. The sacrifices I make!" Claude chuckles. "I can't wait to watch you in action, either. I bet the Eagles won't know what's hit them."  
  
"Regardless--" It comes out stern, even as the prince is drifting off by the second. "--I hope... you've a fair fight in the works." Dimitri has his faith in Claude, though, even if he can't tell for sure if the next thing out of his mouth is a sarcastic retort or some genuine response, because he hears the soft beginnings of rain and it only makes his eyes feel even heavier.

"Fair fight? Have you _met_ me?" When Claude doesn't get a reply, he glances up to see that Dimitri is falling asleep literally as they speak. For once, the prince is probably going to be the one to fall asleep first; Claude's having trouble, even as comfortable and warm here as he is. What he was going to say, a minute ago, was that after they graduate, he's really not sure how he's going to be able to go back to his life without Dimitri in it. Letters just don't cut it--particularly not after Dimitri went through an experience so horrible that he couldn't talk to anyone else about it ( _except Mercedes, let's not forget Mercedes_...) and Claude wasn't there. The gods only know what might happen next time, to either of them. No, he can't let that much time go by again without Dimitri by his side. And although their respective positions as heirs to nations is going to make it difficult, Claude has schemed his way into hard-won victories against overwhelming odds before, and he's sure he'll do it again. It's selfish, he knows. Dimitri will have an entire kingdom to worry about, and unlike Claude he won't have a bunch of squabbling nobles to help take some of the weight off his shoulders--he won't be able to spare the time and attention for one distant friend. But Claude has accepted that he is a more selfish person than Dimitri is, he always will be, and sometimes...

Sometimes he just needs things, and there's a desperation that lives somewhere deep in his bones that makes him willing to do _anything_ to get them.

* * *

A few days go by before Claude manages to catch Hilda alone, and once he does, he doesn't approach her right away, idling instead by the door to the dining hall while she waves goodbye to Mercedes and Annette and finishes up her tea. Mostly, this is because he hasn't yet figured out how exactly he's supposed to broach this subject with her without prompting her to meddle or sounding like he's admitting a weakness. Which he will be, but at least he can try to spin it not to sound like one...

He waits until she gets up to leave and then saunters in casually so that his path happens to cross hers. "Oh, hey Hilda. Going anywhere in particular?"

Strangely, Hilda almost startles, but for the most part otherwise... looks about as bubbly and unawares as usual. "Heeeey. Not that I can think of, no—just finished lunch with Annie and Mercie. Why, what's up?"

Claude shrugs, as if nothing in particular is up. “I just spotted you and thought we could go for a walk and chat. I’ve been so busy lately, what with the Battle of the Eagle and Lion coming up, and we haven’t had much time to talk.”

" _Walk?_ Ugh. Really?"

”I know, I know. Forcing you to take a leisurely stroll? What a cruel and heartless house leader I am. ;)”

Hilda sighs and stretches her arms above her head, and then fixes Claude with a look. "Fine, fine. Where're we going?"

Claude gestures outside and then heads out at a casual, easy pace, as promised. “Nowhere in particular, it’s just nice outside. And walking around will give us a little bit of privacy, if we veer a bit off the beaten path.”

"Off the beaten path? Is that code for, 'I've found another little hiding spot'?" Getting away from the rest of the Deer (and their professors) for a little bit does sound nice though, admittedly. Hilda follows him without further argument. "For you to want privacy though, you either want to complain about something, or you're cooking up some kind of scheme, right? Alright, I'm all ears."

”Something like that.” Claude doesn’t say anything more until they’ve left the dining hall well behind and found their way onto a winding trail that meanders behind the faculty building and off toward the woods. “So, you’ve finally met Dimitri,” he says eventually, as casually as he can. “What do you think of him?”

"Well... you know me. I don't tend to dig too deep into people if I can help it. My first instinct says he's probably not all that different from most of the noble boys running around here, just... Faerghan flavored." Another sigh; Hilda busies herself twirling a lock of hair at the end of her ponytail around a finger. "But, knowing the sorts of people you like, I also guessed there's more than meets the eye with him. Right? So I wasn't too horribly offended the first time he saw me and _immediately_ ran away." Not that she's thought to mention that to Claude until now...

Claude can’t help laughing in surprise. “He _what?_ Why would he do that?” He squints at her. “Did you embarrass him somehow? I _told_ you he’s shy. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him _run away_ from someone. What did you do?”

"Why're you so quick to assume I did anything?!" A scoff. "You know what I 'did'? I saw him down the hall and said, 'hey, Dimitri!' And he looked right at me and _ran_. I wasn't so sure that it wasn't _you_ who did something. Did you talk bad about me or something?"

”Of course not!” His brow furrows, now. “Maybe he was nervous about meeting you? I don’t know why he would be, though. I told him you were friendly.”

"And you're telling me he's not normally some... weird eccentric?" But in the end, she can only shrug. "In any case, I'm _trying_ not to let it utterly tarnish my opinion of him. Maybe other noble gentlemen could learn a thing or two from his tactics: he hasn't said anything that annoyed me yet."

”Well, there’s your first mistake, assuming he has ‘tactics.’ And what’s ‘weird eccentric’ supposed to mean?”

"I mean the type of 'weird eccentric' who runs away from people without so much as a 'hey, how's it going' in response, I guess." They're a ways away from the wall now, though not really anywhere Hilda recognizes. She doesn't travel outside often, save for when she's trying to get Marianne to loosen up a little and get some fresh air in her... "Sooo... I take it you're not asking out of the blue for no reason. Right?"

Claude shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking off at the trees instead of at her. “What, can’t a guy ask one best friend what they think of the other one? I’d just like to see the two of you get along, that’s all.”

"Well, yeah. But I bet you're asking because you've been thinking about it. Probably _agonizing_ over it, actually, knowing you..." Maybe she isn't really one to push too far into other people's business, but since when is Claude's business not _kind of also_ her business? Hilda takes a second, weighs her options in silence. "You know, if you keep yourself from saying it, you'll chicken out and never get it off your chest. Whatever it is you're all antsy about, say it."

”Hey, I’m not _antsy_.” Claude sighs and glances over at her. “Okay, okay. I’ve been spending a lot of time with him since we got here, and...” _Gods, how do people do this?_ “It’s...possible the way I see him has kind of...changed.”

"Changed, huh." There's a lot of things that could possibly mean, but only one of those possibilities has even crossed her mind in the midst of all this. Hilda stops, right in the middle of the path, and faces him with crossed arms. "How?"

 _Why does that sound like an accusation?_ Claude's instinct is to backpedal into a joke, but...he rolls his eyes instead. “Come on, you know. I mean...” He curses his treacherous face for heating up like this. “You’ve _seen_ him, right?”

"Oh, I know." If anything, her expression seems to soften, though only a little. "But I think it might do you some good to, y'know, say it out loud. You probably haven't even admitted it to yourself yet, and here you are trying to admit it to me?"

”Uuugh.” Claude rubs his face with both hands. But isn’t this part of why he came to her in the first place? She’s probably right... “Fine, fine." _Just spit it out._ "I think I might have feelings for Dimitri.” Saying it out loud feels somehow dangerous, like the words might shatter something made of porcelain, or the prince himself might suddenly jump out of the bushes in shock. He watches her reaction carefully.

To Hilda's credit, the only real change is the slow bloom of satisfaction on her face... and maybe a little pride, too. But just a bit. "You think? I assumed you'd overthought this so much by now." She turns and keeps walking, not that she knows where this path of his might lead. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, Claude, but I'm glad you're catching on. I gotta ask though... what made you _finally_ say that, huh?"

 _Oh, no._ “Wait, you already _knew_ that?” He realizes she’s walking again and catches up in a hurry. “Don’t tell me I was that obvious, I’ll die. I swear, I will die right here in front of you and you’ll have to explain it to Teach and then I’ll die _again_.” He’s aware he’s babbling a little, but this is much worse than a bit of embarrassment, if it really _has_ been that obvious. It wasn't even a good idea for people to know they were close friends...

"Claude, we _dated_." It doesn't escape her, but she doesn't stop moving, either. "I'm not absurd enough to think I know anything even remotely _close_ to what he knows about you, but did you forget? You spent most of our time together talking about him... before you ask, no, I'm not mad about it anymore, but it's not exactly something I could forget either. Not that my efforts at figuring out what makes him tick have borne much fruit, but still..."

”Of course I didn’t forget.” _But Mercedes apparently knew too...wait, Hilda was having lunch with Mercedes just now. Since when are they lunch buddies?_ “Okay, you have a point, but tell me this: Have you told Mercedes?” It’s his turn to stop and face her, one hand on a hip, lifting an eyebrow. “Because the other day she asked me how long Dimitri and I have ‘been together.’ I broke a whole jar of spices!” Then her words sink in a little more. “Wait, what efforts? Hilda...have you been gossiping about Dimitri?”

Something in there somewhere gets her to stop, finally, and there's an actual note of affront on her face when she looks at him. "You think I would do that?" Not that Hilda doesn't know Claude can be thoughtful at best and completely paranoid at worst, but still. "Okay, that did hurt a little, I won't lie. But I haven't been _gossiping_ , nor have I told Mercedes anything... outside of confirming things she already knew." Granted, she shouldn't be telling him any of this, either, because-- "We _did_ swear we'd keep our efforts in confidence, but I guess if it means you won't think so horribly of me, I'll say that she and I got a little tired of watching you dance around each other, that's all."

Claude winces a little and scratches the back of his head with one hand. “Sorry. I _didn’t_ think you’d tell her, or anyone, I just...” He runs a hand through his hair. “It would be a bigger deal than just some students talking, if people knew I...” He doesn’t want to admit his greatest fears aloud, knows she often thinks he’s being paranoid when he starts getting cautious—and why wouldn’t she? it’s not like he’s told her any of his secrets—so he pauses to gather his thoughts. “I don’t think horribly of you. I promise. If I did, I wouldn’t have come to talk to you about this. You’re the only one I _can_ talk to about this.” A pause. “What do you mean, dance around each other?”

 _Right, right._ She shouldn't have been so quick to jump on that—she's not trying to guilt him here. "I'm not saying this to make you freak out or anything, but... honestly? There was a while where I thought you actually _were_ dating? Uh..." Hilda almost manages to look sheepish, for a second. "Mercedes _did_ tell me. About the kitchen... thing. So, uh, I wasn't the only one? I guess what I'm saying is that _neither_ of you is being subtle to people who know you well enough. Mercie told me she's in pretty much the same boat that I was, having to listen to Dimitri go _on_ and _on_ about you..."

Claude stares at her with heat rising to his cheeks. "That's just Dimitri. He does that. It doesn't mean he'd want to _date_ me."

"Yeah. He does do that. Only about _you_ , so I'm told." But this is quite a big step for Claude, a thought Hilda keeps in the back of her mind as she debates her next step from here. She could come out swinging, sure, but Claude... requires a tad more finesse than that. "You told me about him being 'quite the romantic' once. Well, then? Have you ever actually heard him talk about someone romantically?"

To his credit, Claude takes the question seriously and thinks back. "No, actually. The one time I asked him, he just said that his uncle was maneuvering to arrange a marriage he wasn't interested in. I know where you're going with this, but I think he's just focused on more important things. He's got a ton of responsibility--they're putting too much on his shoulders too fast, if you ask me."

From the line she presses her lips into, it's not really the answer she wanted, but Hilda can't fault him anyway. "I won't say that's not a valid assumption, but I don't think that's it. Or, not _entirely_ it." She isn't too fond of chilling on the grass with the bugs and worms and whatever, but she does move to sit near the side of the path, where a small cluster of rocks hunches against the bushes.

Claude lifts his eyebrows. "Wow, you must _really_ feel strongly about this. Hilda Valentine Goneril doesn't get comfortable in the gross outdoors for just anything. I'm honored, milady." He grins and sits beside her.

Hilda rolls her eyes. "Obviously you're gonna do what you want, but I think it wouldn't be a bad idea to, y'know... ask him about it again. Maybe it'll help you see what we've been seeing."

Claude's grin vanishes. "No way. Absolutely not. What if you're wrong? He's a sensitive person, Hilda, and I _cannot_ ruin our friendship just because I've thought about kissing him more than once."

"Hey, I'm not saying you run up to him and, like, profess your undying love or anything ridiculous. I just mean... y'know, ask if anyone's caught his eye maybe? That kinda talk wouldn't be so out of place for you two when you talk about everything else under the sun, right?"

Now _this_ , he can handle--scheming to find answers is his specialty. He sits forward, considering the options. "Maybe, maybe not. But if the topic were to come up about someone else first, I can pull out a casual segue, make it sound like an offhand question. 'Just curious, Mitya,' and then move on. That could work."

"It could work if you don't chicken out." Just as teasing as ever, but the bump of Hilda's shoulder against his is far gentler than her tone is, and she doesn't bother to hide her concern, either.

"Hey, I never chicken out. I _retreat strategically_." He gives her a shoulder bump and a wink in return.

"I don't mean to sound pushy, but... maybe for once, don't be afraid to come out of your comfort zone just a little, 'kay? Really, I think you'll be surprised. By him _and_ by yourself."

"You're not being pushy. I came to _you_ for advice, remember?" But he makes a face. "Doesn't mean I _like_ the advice, though. You're asking a lot, here, you know." He makes it sound casual, but he's honestly terrified of the prospect, and knowing him as well as she does, she can probably see it in his eyes.

"Hey. That's just my opinion as the girl you kinda dated. In the end, if you're happy, I don't see why I wouldn't be... buuut I feel like I _do_ have to mention that I'll beat his ass if he screws this up. Just so it's out there."

Claude laughs. "Only kinda? Ouch. But all jokes aside, your opinion matters to me, so thanks. No beating him up, though! I'm afraid he'd let you. Besides, I have no idea what he could do to screw it up." He remembers Dimitri's insistence that nothing he could do would make him change his mind about Claude...the same is true the other way around, he's sure.

"No promises."

It's Claude's turn to roll his eyes, but he sobers soon enough. "And I know you said you're not mad anymore, but I _am_ sorry I did nothing but talk about Dimitri all that time in Derdriu." He has the grace to look sheepish. "Though I guess I'm still doing it, huh? Just poke me if I do it too much. Not just for your sake, either--I really do need to be careful."

Hilda considers getting up so they can move on, but... she surprises even herself with the question that slips out before she can really think it over. "Are you ever gonna tell me why that is?" A few beats of silence, and she manages to find her words again but loses them just as quickly. That's unfair of her to ask, she thinks, even if she doesn't really know _why_ it is, only that it just... kind of is, where Claude is concerned? "I-- no, don't answer that." _Moooving on_ — She's already hopping to her feet. "C'mon, nature is gross and I'm hungry all over again."

The question surprises Claude, too, and he tries to swallow a surge of guilt. He's been dancing around telling her much of anything private about himself for years, now. He's sure it must be frustrating--it would be absolutely maddening if he were in her shoes--and it's definitely standing in the way of getting closer to her. But given the circumstances, he doesn't have a choice. And that may never change, given her family's role in the Alliance. Fortunately, she does know enough to make this easier on both of them, and he can't help a silent sigh of relief, even as outwardly his face splits into a teasing grin. "Aw, Hilda, the ants and the worms just want to be your friends! What would Marianne say if she knew you were shunning the animal kingdom like this?" He holds out a hand to get her to help him up.

"Marianne is aware of my shortcomings and, I'd like to think, loves me anyway, _thank you_." She sure does make a show of helping him stand, though. They've always been good at that, brushing off the weird, awkward things. "I hope you're hungry, because I'm definitely going back to the dining hall."

"You know me. I'm always hungry." Claude brushes grass from his uniform and heads back along the path toward the more populated parts of the monastery. "Hey, speaking of Marianne and having feelings for people...?" He lifts his eyebrows at her expectantly.

"Please, dealing with all of this is enough of a toll on my emotions. No way I'm delving into that." _Nor am I gonna let you change the subject._

"Alright, alright." He lifts his hands in surrender, grinning.

"If you need to, though, I know Mercie's always willing to lend an ear. If you wanna talk about your prince with someone who knows him better, or something. Maybe I'd be able to do the same once he stops running away from me."

Claude sighs dramatically. "Oh, I see, you want to pawn the responsibility of friendship off on Mercedes." He shakes his head. "I barely know her. I mean, I did tell Dimitri I'd go out of my way to get to know her better, for his sake. And don't get me wrong, she's nice and all. But do you know how long it took me to hype myself up to tell _you?_ " He almost sounds like he's hoping to get her permission to just never talk about it again, but then-- "Wait a minute, you want to talk to _him_ about this? Don't you dare."

"Not about this. Sheesh, I thought you said earlier you didn't think I was that type! I just mean, like, in general. My only frames of reference for him so far are Mercedes, your bias, and the back of his head."

"I don't! I'm just... 'being paranoid,' I guess. And I may be biased, but he really _is_ the kindest, sweetest person in the world, you'll see."

Hilda lowers her voice as they near the walls again and slows her pace once the path turns to stone under their boots. Damn him and his sprightliness, her feet are already starting to hurt. "Anyway, like I said, I'm not trying to push you into anything outlandish. Just... think on it, 'kay?"

He slows with her, lowering his voice in tandem. "Alright, I promise I will _think_ about talking to Mercedes about it."

"Yeah. Uh huh." Hilda can't count the number of times he's said that or a variation of it, but she's happy for him anyway.

"And I was just telling Mitya the other day that I'd like to see the two of you chat more, so hopefully next time he'll stay put when he sees you coming. ;)"

With a sigh, she links her arm with his and leans the brunt of her weight against him. "I'm not making any promises on that front, either. But... still. _If_ this does actually work out... I'll be happy for you. No matter how much I make fun of you for it."

"Oh, I would expect nothing less than constant mockery." But the smile he shoots her is grateful, as his steps naturally fall into a rhythm with hers. Never in his life has he felt like such a kindred spirit as with Hilda--which, they're both well aware, is why it didn't work out for them romantically. But she's a steadfast friend and a solid rock, which is something truly precious. He chooses not to think about what will happen to their friendship when he reveals who he is by going back to Almyra. "Thanks for this, Hilda."

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated." It's the tail-end of lunch hours, and so it's a trickle of students Hilda leads them both against to get to the dining hall, not that it deters her. If anything, there's just a little more pep in her step when they round the fishing pond. "You liked that Daphnel soup or whatever, right? They had some earlier—let's go before Raphael finishes it off! I _know_ you haven't eaten yet."

”Daphnel stew," he corrects with a grin, "and I’m flattered you remembered. ;)”


	11. Garreg Mach: Edelgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude runs into Edelgard and they discover they might have more in common than they thought.

After lunch, Claude meanders to the library in search of Dimitri; they’d planned to do some studying later this afternoon, but knowing the prince he might be there already, and the more time Claude gets to spend with him the better. And if not, it isn’t as though he needs an excuse to keep himself occupied there.

He doesn’t find Dimitri, but he does find another house leader. He’s been pondering lately what makes her tick - why she’s so bent on criticizing them at every turn, especially Dimitri, and what drives her. He’s often sensed the same kind of ambition in her that fuels his own dreams, and he wonders what someone like Edelgard von Hresvelg dreams about. “Well, if it isn’t Her Imperial Highness.” He saunters over and hops up to perch on a table nearby. “If it’s the upcoming battle you’re preparing for, I’m sorry to say you won’t find any hints of what I’m scheming in a book.”

"So you would admit to your scheming?" Edelgard's eyes never stray from the page for long, though when she spares him a look, it isn't so devoid of sympathy.

”It’s hard to be this great at something and _not_ admit to it.” Claude flashes her a smirk.

She ignores the comment and catches a page under her thumb, but pauses in her reading. "Am I to assume that your injuries have healed, then?"

 _There she goes again, supposedly concerned._ “Don’t you worry about me, Princess, I’m fit as a fiddle and plenty ready to win that prize.”

"Good." Either she doesn't notice the slight edge to it, or doesn't care to remark. She lowers her book to the table and turns in her seat to face him. "Were the three of us not at our best, it wouldn't be a battle worth fighting, mock or no. Though I do hope this has incentivized you to brush up on your close-quarter skills...?" Judging by her expression, she's assuming not.

”Oh, I won’t need them. You’ll never even see me coming.” Claude grins. “But I’m sure all those loyal subjects you’ve whipped into shape will be only too glad to catch you when you fall from that high horse of yours.”

Edelgard arches a brow. "I can't begin to fathom when or why you decided to make this personal, but you're mistaken if you think such talk will discourage me now. I won't say that I'm not curious, however..." She claps the book closed, and sits now with legs crossed at the knee. Amused. And cautious. "Not trusting one another is understandable, but I am more than aware when I'm disliked--not that you're being subtle."

Claude feels a pang of remorse then-- _does that mean she's been disliked often?_ \--but in his mind's ear he can still clearly hear the dismissive, condescending way she talks to Dimitri... "Nah, it's not personal. At least, not in the sense that your constant belittlement bothers _me_. To be honest, there's a lot I respect about you." He smiles, meaninglessly. "Not everyone's as resilient as me, though."

"And who, exactly, is it that I've belittled to gain _your_ attention? I never once took you to be as aloof as they say you are, but you must truly be observant to notice that which I haven't noticed myself."

 _Haven't noticed? She's either lying, or she really has no idea..._ "Come on, talk about being unsubtle. It's obvious how little regard you have for Dimitri."

Edelgard doesn't stop her surprise from showing in time. Nor does she think to hide it after the fact—she watches him, wide-eyed, for a few quiet seconds before she realizes he's being serious. "I have no trust for him, nor any particular fondness for him, though nor do I for you. I wouldn't say I dislike him; I hardly know him." She almost falls down the rabbit hole of recollection right then, but Edelgard knows she hasn't the time for it now. "I'm afraid your implications are beyond me, this time."

Claude studies her reaction carefully. He's better at keeping his own surprise hidden, but...what does she mean, she hardly knows him? Dimitri said they grew up together for a while, he said they'd been close...and the way she chides him is way too familiar, exactly what he'd expect from a sibling. So what is she talking about? "Could have fooled me." But his tone is less caustic, more thoughtful. "But I don't think you're lying. So let me give you a piece of advice: stop treating him like you think he's some silly child. Maybe you don't realize you're doing it, and if so, I really am sorry for being such a thorn in your side all this time. I'd much prefer it if the three of us could get along."

To Edelgard's credit, she does seem to consider his words. Her face softens, though her brows draw close... but she doesn't lose herself in her thoughts for too long. She sighs, the quietest huff of air, and sits back in her chair. "I hadn't thought that I was treating him that differently from anyone else." Her eyes flicker to Claude suddenly and, for the shortest of moments, she looks as if she wishes to say more. She settles for something less... potentially provocative. "I will take what you've said into consideration. I'm aware that, in spite of what some of our professors would have us believe, we aren't enemies here."

This is more than Claude hoped to achieve, and he's a little surprised to hear her of all people say such a thing. Still, he thinks, there's something odd going on here. _Does she somehow not remember Mitya at all...?_ "Glad to hear it. Don't get me wrong, I still plan to crush both you and Dimitri on the field. ;)" He tucks his feet up under him on the table, getting a bit more comfortable. "But you're right. We're not enemies." He cocks his head, curious. "Which professors do you mean? Teach has never said anything like that."

"I suppose it's only natural. On our way here, the professor told me they had only heard of the mountain, not the academy atop it. The professors who were here before—Professor Manuela, and Professor Hanneman, seem to be taking this mock battle of ours quite seriously." Her attention falls briefly back to her book, and her fingertips graze its cover. "It would make sense. To clash on Gronder Field... the symbolism is entirely too intentional."

"It _does_ smack of hypocrisy, doesn't it? Gathering students from every corner of Fódlan to live and work together, then commemorating the most divisive clash in its history? Not to mention, the name of the battle doesn't even take the Deer into account at all! ;)" It's a joke, but it also...isn't. Coincidence that the Church wants everyone to remember a time before the Alliance existed? He doubts it. The Alliance is far from perfect, but at least it makes an attempt at cooperation between lords... He follows her gaze to the book she was reading. "Studying up on history?"

"You could say that." She looks to the door, deems herself satisfied, and lifts the book to inspect its cover again. "Normally, I save my reading for nighttime... but I was surprised the Church would allow such a book to remain in its open library. I suppose it isn't the most controversial of topics..." _But, still._ This is more than she'd expected. Her voice is low when she next speaks. "I find it difficult to believe a book on the previous inhabitants of these mountains would remain in this library by accident. I certainly doubt its natives would have believed the land is sacred to the Goddess."

 _Huh. She gets more fascinating by the minute. Why would the future Emperor of Adrestia care about books the Church does or doesn't ban?_ "Curious, isn't it? That's not the only one, either. This library contains books on the ancient Wolf Lords of Faerghus, too, and a few other pre-Seiros topics. Conspicuously, though, very little about anywhere outside Fódlan, other than travelogues written by Fódlaners visiting places they conquered." He leans forward, lowering his voice too. "My guess? Those books are still here to paint a picture of people the Church of Seiros 'saved' by bringing its Goddess to them." He props his chin up on a hand, elbow resting on his knee. "You don't sound all that fond of the Goddess yourself." There's no judgment one way or the other, here--just a neutral observation.

"I have no qualm with 'her' one way or the other. Merely the things her name has justified. But I wouldn't say that that's entirely correct: the Church doesn't shy away from our history with Brigid, nor with Dagda or Duscur." Edelgard glances once more at the doorway. None of the usual staff are here, but she waits until the footsteps from the hall outside grow faint before she continues. "Such fervor from the Church is nothing new, though I don't remember a time in my life when it's bordered on this kind of fanaticism. I would not be surprised to see stories of Seiros' crusades spun into heroics. That I would see nothing at all in regards to it, however, disturbs me."

"Oh, I've read what the Church has to say about Duscur." Claude can't help an edge to that. This is the first time he's heard anyone here other than Dimitri talk about Fódlan's conquests in a less than favorable light, and he really would not have expected it from her of all people. He briefly entertains the notion that she's baiting him, but he dismisses it just as quickly. He notices, too, which country she leaves out of her list... "The fact that the Church goes out of its way to censor libraries like this at all is disturbing." He drums his fingers of his other hand on the table lightly for a moment, words on the tip of his tongue that he knows he shouldn't say. But... "Have you ever read about the founding of the Officers' Academy itself?"

Edelgard looks to him, and her silence stretches longer than it needs to be. "I have," she says eventually, slowly. "Do you mean to ask my thoughts on it?" Truth be told, she hasn't thought much on the event as it's been reported, nor its implications... she doesn't wait for him to answer, either, before she finds her words again. "I don't trust their account of it enough to make a decision. I hope that doesn't _disappoint_ you."

The confirmation that he really shouldn't have brought this up makes Claude's whole body tense, but he keeps smiling as always, meeting her gaze with lifted eyebrows as she practically stares at him. "Why would it? I'm sure it's much like their account of everything else: carefully tailored to make them sound like the protagonists of the story. Too bad it's so hard to get the other sides of these tales, huh?" He should stop. He should have stopped five minutes ago. He should have left her here to her reading after he got his point across about Dimitri. But...if she really does have as much of an issue with the Church's history as she's implied, she could be an ally. An important one. _...take it slow, Claude. You have all year. Don't rush it._

Edelgard flickers through a number of emotions as she watches him, though through it all remains the dread that this conversation is more than she was prepared for when she made this trip to the library. But the princess straightens herself, uncrosses her legs; it isn't suspicion in her eyes so much as it is unbridled curiosity, but she hasn't the faintest of where to begin with this. "That it is." Is this some sort of... scheme? A trap of some kind, somehow? She forces her gaze away, and her eyes find the book again. "An unfortunate obstacle I've come to accept, for the time being. I get the feeling that this is not the case with you."

Claude's not sure how to read the look she gives him before she breaks eye contact, though no doubt it's her turn to think she's being baited. In a way, he supposes, she is, although not for the sorts of reasons she probably thinks. Unless this whole thing has been one big con on her end, but he doesn't think so. "I make a habit of never accepting anything at face value," he tells her cheerfully, hopping down from his perch on the desk. "But I'll leave you to it for now. We should chat again sometime, Your Highness. This was enlightening."

"Yes. It certainly was." The first thing that pops into Edelgard's mind is Hubert, but she decides without hesitation that this is a task for herself, and herself alone. She looks to Claude again, and nods, if... somewhat uncertainly. She never imagined he could make himself more of an enigma... Well. She has her work cut out for her.

Claude gives her a smile and a wave before heading off to the other side of the library to wait for Dimitri, combing the shelves for something interesting to read in the meantime. He's barely absorbing the words on the page, though, preoccupied as his thoughts are with the idea that Edelgard might be more of an asset than a hindrance. Not that he would suggest it to Dimitri in those terms...but he imagines the prince will be happy enough to hear that perhaps Claude and Her Adrestian Perfectness might get along better than they thought.


	12. Garreg Mach: The Spoils (or Spoiling) of Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude only came over here to ask if any of the Lions had seen Dimitri. That was all he was going to do. Ask, and then leave. But when he hears his name come up in conversation, well...wouldn't anyone pause to listen? Anyone but Dimitri, anyway. There's no way the prince would do something so sneaky. He lingers nearby for a moment, back turned to them, idly chatting with the first person who passes by (it's Catherine, who apparently cannot turn down free food) but barely even half-listening to her, his mouth on autopilot. He can't hear everything amid the noise and merriment, but he can hear enough to get the gist. Panic grips him as he says a hurried goodbye to Catherine and turns around to leave--leave the dining hall, leave the monastery, leave the universe, go far far away. Which is, of course, when Mercedes spots him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last one was unusually short, this one's unusually long...it all balances out in the end, I guess. :P

True to his word, Claude did not go easy on the other houses with the tactics he developed with Berith during their first big mock battle. It was hard-fought on all sides, but Claude's proud to say the Golden Deer emerged victorious--despite Lorenz's insistence on ignoring Claude's plans in some ridiculous attempt to prove that he should have been house leader instead, or something. Fortunately, adapting on the fly is one of Claude's specialties. And although he was unable to resist being just a _little_ smug when the house leaders met up after the battle--okay, maybe more than a little--he was pleased at the easy camaraderie they found with Edelgard despite the academy pitting them against each other with more pomp and circumstance than Claude felt a mock battle warranted. He was even more pleased that everyone agreed to the little party he wanted to throw to bring the students together. Now, as he watches them all mingling and chatting and eating together, he thinks that maybe his dreams aren't quite as far away as he'd feared. But he notices quickly that there's someone missing, and it doesn't take too long to find them once he steps outside onto the stone patio that overlooks the pond. He jogs up from the side so as not to startle them with his approach. "Hey, Teach! What are you doing out here by yourself? Aren't you gonna join us for dinner?"

He manages to startle the professor anyway, somehow. Berith realizes he's there and doesn't jump, at least, but takes a second to lean that much closer to the light from the dining hall. It's getting darker out already. 'Didn't think I was out here this long.' Yet they make no move to stand. If they concentrate, they can almost hear all the noise from Claude's party from here... Berith can be glad the students are enjoying themselves as long as they don't have to be in the midst of it. 'You all are loud.' Berith hopes Claude can actually make out their signing in this dim light. 'Is there any food left?'

Claude squints to watch their hands carefully, concentrating. Dimitri's helped him learn the Goddess' signs as fast as he could, and he's always been a quick study, but he still routinely misses things or gets them wrong. He tries not to make it obvious during lectures when the other Deer are around, but working in private with the professor, he usually resorts to asking them to write things down when he's unsure. This, at least, is simple enough so far. "Yeah, there's plenty. Although if you don't hurry, Raphael and Ingrid might finish it off between them. ;)" He drops down to sit facing them, making it easier both for him to see their signing and for them to see his face. "I gotta say, I was a little surprised to see you get so hands-on in the fight today. Hanneman and Manuela hung back, but not you. Still thinking like a mercenary?"

'That's how I fight.' If there's one thing they know of Claude, though, it's that that sort of answer wouldn't satisfy him. They stop to consider their words a little more carefully.

Claude watches, patient while Berith thinks. He's begun to learn the difference between pauses that mean they're finished expressing a thought and pauses that mean they aren't. The more he learns about them, the more fascinating they become and the more questions he has. And if their sudden position of importance to the Church is any indication, getting them on his side early might be crucial to the future of the Alliance...among other things.

Berith signs a little more slowly, now. 'The best leaders are part of their team. Beside them. Not above or hiding behind.' Raphael's laughter booms from inside the hall, and Berith stops themselves from sighing. There's probably nothing left but crumbs, by now. 'Maybe it isn't a bad way to teach. But what about when you're in a real fight?'

Claude's silently grateful for the slowdown. "You'll get no argument from me. Who knows, maybe having you alongside us made the difference between a win and a loss." He leans forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees. "But that still doesn't explain why you leapt in front of an attack that was meant for Ignatz. He left himself open; it would have taught him something to take that hit. You protected him anyway, even though we were all using training weapons--he would have been fine." He cocks his head, curious. "Why is that?"

'A mock battle is not the classroom. It wasn't about how you perform on your own.' The wind picks up the slightest, and Berith hunkers down on the step. 'And no one can be perfect. He can try to fix his weak spots. And his real squad mates will cover him until he gets it right. There's a time and a place for learning lessons.' They seem finished, resting their chin against a knee.

That's a lot of signs in a row, and Claude keeps up with a little more than half of them--enough to get the gist. He hopes. If he's got it right, this is pretty different from the way he's used to instructors approaching things with their students. His previous teachers, in Almyra and in Derdriu both, always expected him to absorb the lesson and then put it into practice on his own; if he screwed it up, no one was going to bail him out. _Huh._ He's about to reply when Berith appears to think of something else and, reluctantly, sits up again to offer the thought: 'He doesn't like to fight. Can't you tell?'

Claude lifts his eyebrows in surprise--that much, he understood clearly. "Yeah, I've gotten that impression. He's here for his parents, not for himself. Kinda sad, really, although he does have talent with the bow." It _is_ getting chilly out here, he thinks, tucking his hands into the opposite sleeves of his jacket and fixing Berith with a somewhat bemused look. "No offense, Teach, but I didn't really think you would care much about things like whether or not we _like_ to fight."

Their expression... it doesn't quite fall, per se, but it's blank in a different way somehow. Tired, but not quite. Not really exasperated, either. 'Why wouldn't I?' Claude probably has a point, though. During Berith's first week here, Hanneman told them not to mind it when students don't pay attention, or fall asleep in lectures. If they want to waste the coin they spent to be here, he said, then let them. But that's hardly a constructive way to go about things, Berith thinks. They wonder if he would say the same about a student who could learn to fight, but didn't wish to... They blink, and come back to reality.. Hopefully he didn't say something... they definitely didn't hear anything.

While Claude has done a passable job learning to interpret pauses and signs, this is where his understanding of Berith starts to break down--these incredibly subtle facial expressions, so subtle he can barely tell anything's changed. He's sure someone who didn't spend hours every day with them wouldn't be able to tell at all. Jeralt's not like this, he thinks; the few times they've met, the knight has been brusque but plenty expressive. "...would have thought you'd be the same," he's saying, when Berith tunes back in. "The Church of Seiros isn't exactly known for its deeply personal connection to its followers." He pauses. Criticizing the Church and its pet institutions to Edelgard is one thing; doing it in front of someone who _works_ for the Church is another entirely. Still, Berith does seem different. From anyone Claude's ever met, really. And he knows what it's like to be different. "It isn't known for taking the individual's wishes into account much, either. But I should have known not to make assumptions about you." He smiles.

'I don't see why I wouldn't.' Berith wonders what he means by that, about assumptions. They're no stranger to the judgments of others. This one is fairly innocent, at least. They've already had a conversation like this, but Berith feels it may bear... elaboration. 'I didn't know the Church existed until we got here. I don't know how I'd be like them.' They aren't sure they know what 'like them' even is, but it must be a bad thing for Claude to say it like that? Berith frowns. 'What did you think I would be like?'

"To be honest, when we first met you were such a mystery that I didn't know _what_ to think." Claude grins. "Since then, I've been working on figuring you out. You don't make it easy." He isn't criticizing--if anything, he admires them for it. "But I've definitely learned a few things about you today. And I can say for sure that I'm glad you chose the Golden Deer."

There's no smile, or soft little 'thanks', nothing of the sort. Berith almost looks more confused than just moments earlier, and though that face doesn't last for long, they're still wracking their brain for the words to address that. Nothing comes to mind. Praise in battle is one thing, but Berith has never been good with idle compliments, especially not when they don't know whether they're genuine.

Claude doesn't usually have awkward moments, but he can't help feeling like this is one, as Berith just sort of stares at him. Maybe they regret choosing his house. Maybe it's because of him. He would never know--Berith's the hardest person to read that he's ever met, and it's nerve-wracking. He's about to break the silence with some kind of joke when the professor's hands move again.

'You're cold. Inside.' They stand and hold a hand out to him. A few students have slipped out of the dining hall, but it seems a great deal of the kids are still inside enjoying themselves... and at this rate, waiting them out will leave nothing but crumbs behind.

"Sure thing." Claude takes the hand to hop up and follows them inside, more than ready to eat again even though he already ate an entire plate of food not fifteen minutes ago. Watching his fellow students here seems a little less heartwarming than it did before, after that inscrutable reaction outside...he can't help feeling alone in the crowd. _Time to find Dimitri._ "Hey, Teach, I've got someone I want to catch up with. I'll see you later?"

It's a sudden change of tune that doesn't escape Berith, but they acquiesce without a fight. They nod and, albeit... hesitantly, break off to wade through the little sea of students. Most have stayed where they are, largely with their own classmates, and Dimitri is no exception; Professor Hanneman is nowhere to be seen, but few of his students have left yet, and the leader of their house sits at the head of the table. His hands wring the tail of his braid and, maybe unsurprisingly, it seems Felix is the one dominating conversation at their end of the table. Berith spares only a glance for the Blue Lions, though, before they move on to investigate the leftovers.

* * *

"I don't understand how you could have missed those snipers in the trees," Felix complains at Dimitri without really looking at him. "You _know_ that's the Alliance's strongest suit, and it was obvious that as soon as we advanced on Edelgard's mages, they would pick us off."

Another voice cuts in before Dimitri can so much as open his mouth. "We all did our very best there, Felix." It's Mercedes, smiling ever brightly, and pulling close a dish of sorbet from the center of the table.

"No, I acknowledge the faults in my planning," Dimitri replies. "Professor Hanneman insisted on going by the book, and... I suppose that it seemed a decent strategy, at the time. I must say that their marksmen are quite impressive, and so I'm not surprised-"

Felix scoffs. "Stop admiring our opponents. No wonder we lost, with you mooning over them like this. It's pathetic."

Ingrid pauses to swallow the large bite of pork in her mouth as she glares across the table. "Felix, stop it. You're being a sore loser. The Deer and the Eagles train just as hard as we do. There is no shame in defeat at the hands of a worthy foe." Felix just rolls his eyes.

"I see no reason not to make our loss into something productive." There's more Dimitri wishes to say, much more, about Felix's attitude towards their fellow students and his expectations of them as a whole, but he doesn't. This is supposed to be a celebration for the Golden Deer, yes, but there's a reason that every house was allowed to join. "We can learn a great deal from this, yes, but I see no harm in admiring such tactics either. In the end, it will only allow us to hone ourselves in preparation for true battle, wouldn't you say?"

"I thought you liked learning from your opponents, Felix." Ashe has been quiet until now, wanting to defend His Highness but not quite knowing how to go about it. "You always say so."

"That's hardly the same thing." Felix jabs at a piece of fish with his fork harder than necessary, and it scrapes the plate with a noise that sets his teeth on edge. He winces; it only serves to irritate him more. "It's one thing to learn a technique from them. It's another to fawn over them." If he notices the pun, he doesn't address it. "I wouldn't be surprised if the boar let the Golden Deer win."

"Don't be absurd." It hasn't sparked Dimitri's temper, not yet, but the prince is standing just over its precipice—his hand clenches around his fork briefly, though the utensil is miraculously intact when he forces his hand open. "Claude and I are indeed friends, but I take this no less seriously than our professors have. I don't see what I would gain from such a thing."

Felix's eyes flicker to Dimitri's fork, and he sneers. "Please. You really think no one's noticed? Even _I've_ noticed, and I try my best to ignore you."

A light hand touches Dimitri's shoulder, but he doesn't notice. His eyes widen a fraction, and a scoff escapes him. "Noticed? What, pray tell, have you possibly noticed?"

Ingrid cuts in before Felix has the chance to say anything. "Please, Your Highness, may we change the subject? There is no need to listen to Felix," she shoots him another glare, a warning in her eyes, "and as you say, there is plenty we can learn from the battle today. We did well under your leadership, and we should all be proud."

Dimitri deflates a bit and gives her an uneasy smile. "And... I suppose such energy is best saved for the training grounds, after we've all celebrated. Yes." When he returns to his meal, though, its unsteadily. "What's more, I'm certain Professor Hanneman will now see the value in more practical instruction, hm?"

"...I'm going to bed." Felix stands, leaving half of his plate full. "I don't know why I bothered to come in the first place." Without looking at anyone at the table, he walks off through the dining hall and outside.

"I'm certain he'll be alright," Mercedes says. "Come morning when he's had time to calm down, everything will be back to normal. But I agree, maybe we ought to find something else to talk about... hm, is anyone else excited for the choir festival?"

Not a moment after, Dimitri stands as well. "Apologies, but I'm also feeling somewhat tired. Perhaps tomorrow, at breakfast?" He manages another smile and bids the table goodnight without so much as another word of explanation before he trudges across the hall and out into the dark.

Ashe watches the prince go with a disheartened frown, brows furrowed in confusion. "Do you think His Highness will be okay? He looked unhappy."

"Well, I know he's probably taken our loss to heart, despite what he may say. It would be my hope he knows we understand, but... Dimitri has always held himself to such high standards." With the prince absent, Mercedes doesn't hide the twist of her lips into a frown, either. "... I will try to check on him before I go to bed tonight, and make sure that he's sleeping. We should give him time alone first, I think."

"Thanks, Mercedes. Knowing you're on the job makes me feel a lot better." Ashe's confusion remains, though. "Um...I hate to pry, but...does anyone else know what Felix was talking about?"

"What about Felix?" Right on cue, it's Sylvain who approaches their table, somehow looking... a tad more disheveled than usual. Not really a question of what he was doing instead of celebrating with his housemates, at least. He doesn't seem bothered, even as he notices the empty chairs, merely leans against the back of Dimitri's seat and glances around at the rest. For the sake of it, probably. "I'm noticing a distinct lack of feisty swordsmen, so am I supposed to assume everything's going well?"

"Um...not...exactly," Ashe says.

"That was sarcasm, buddy." Without sparing a second more, Sylvain sits down at the head of the table. "What happened?"

"Glad you could join us, Sylvain," says Ingrid--tinged with sarcasm, but only a little. Then she sighs. "Felix blames His Highness for our loss in the battle today and insinuated that he deliberately let the Golden Deer win." She huffs, offended. "The very idea! How dare Felix say such a thing?"

"If anyone would take that kind of a loss hard, it'd be Felix." If anything, Sylvain sounds tiredly resigned to the idea. He rests an elbow on the table and rubs at the nape of his neck. "Guess I can talk to him if you need, but... Felix is gonna need time to stew on his own or even _I'd_ get my head ripped off. Mm... but His Highness forfeiting the match is a bit of a stretch, even for Felix. Makes me wonder if he'd really believe that."

"Regardless of whether he really believes it, it was quite the mean thing to say to him. Felix knows Dimitri will think about it until someone should pull him out of his... slump." Mercedes looks like she's already devising a plan...

Ashe pipes up again. "He also said, um...that he's noticed something about His Highness, something to do with him being friends with Claude? Do you know what he meant, Sylvain?"

Ever since Dimitri left the table, Annette's been holding her tongue. It's not right to gossip about His Highness. It's not nice! She'd feel so bad for talking about him behind his back like that!...but now she can't hold it in anymore. It just tumbles out: "We think he likes Claude. I mean, _like_ likes him." A stage whisper that is not nearly as quiet as she thinks it is.

Sylvain was going to try to put it a lot more subtly than that, but- "Y'know, probably not a conversation we should be having here of all places? We can discuss our glorious leader somewhere else, surely." Not that he's all that inclined to talk about Dimitri and (what he's sure are) his love troubles much at all. Sylvain sighs. "But I guess he's not being all that careful about it if it's true, huh?"

"Well..." Ingrid flushes pink, embarrassed to be talking about this, but if the conversation is happening anyway... "He _does_ spend an awful lot of time with Claude. And Claude does come to our classroom often. And when we were younger, he talked about Claude all the time."

"They were friends for quite a long time, you know... I doubt that being leaders of opposing houses would change much of anything. I can't say I know what Felix expected..." Mercedes spares Annette the briefest of looks, hardly even decipherable from an absentminded glance when it happens. "And I don't think that we should be asking Dimitri about this either. He's quite stressed as things are, and this certainly wouldn't help!"

Ingrid's face gets redder. "Absolutely not! No one should ever tell His Highness about this conversation. In fact, we probably shouldn't even be _having_ this conversation."

"Yeah, you're right." Annette pauses. "But does _Claude_ like _him?_ " Ingrid gives her a Look, and she shrugs. "What! I didn't ask about His Highness!"

"C'mon, we can save this for the classroom, yeah?" _How am **I** the voice of reason here?_ Sylvain thinks.

"Okay, okay!" Annette holds up her hands in surrender.

"I don't know that we should be--" Mercedes' eyes lift and she snaps to attention, all smiles once again in the bat of an eye. She hesitates, but... "Hello, Claude. Are you and the Golden Deer enjoying the feast?" she asks with a slight raise of her voice, though her eyes are knowing, not quite serene.

Claude only came over here to ask if any of the Lions had seen Dimitri. That was all he was going to do. Ask, and then leave. But when he hears his name come up in conversation, well...wouldn't anyone pause to listen? Anyone but Dimitri, anyway. There's no way the prince would do something so sneaky. He lingers nearby for a moment, back turned to them, idly chatting with the first person who passes by (it's Catherine, who apparently cannot turn down free food) but barely even half-listening to her, his mouth on autopilot. He can't hear everything amid the noise and merriment, but he can hear enough to get the gist. Panic grips him as he says a hurried goodbye to Catherine and turns around to leave--leave the dining hall, leave the monastery, leave the universe, go far far away. Which is, of course, when Mercedes spots him. He holds her gaze for a moment, hoping the fear and vague accusation isn't showing on his face--at least, clearly enough for her to see from there. He takes a breath to steady himself before putting on his smile and sauntering over like nothing has happened. "Hey, if it isn't my favorite bunch of Faerghans. Why the serious faces? This is a party, it's supposed to be a good time, you know."

"Ah. Well..." Mercedes spares a glance at the head of the table. Though Sylvain still occupies the seat, it's obvious enough he wouldn't be sitting there normally. "Dimitri just went off to bed. He was quite tired after the mock battle, today! I was going to check on him, once I left here..."

 _Dimitri went to bed without saying anything to me?_ Claude doubts it, though that's probably what the prince told them. "It's understandable, we all worked hard today. I'd say His Princeliness deserves a well-earned rest." He can't help but notice that Felix is also missing from the table. _Gosh, imagine that._ "But I hope you're all enjoying yourselves even without his august presence and sunny disposition. ;)" He laces this with as much teasing sarcasm as he can. "I wanted us all to come together as friends tonight, rather than rivals."

"Well, _I'm_ having fun!" Annette nudges Mercedes with her elbow. "You are too, right, Mercie?"

"Of course." And it isn't a lie, or wouldn't have been had they asked her not even five minutes earlier. "It's wonderful to know that there is more to our houses than just rivalry, isn't it? And it was so very thoughtful of you to help put this together, Claude!"

"See? Everyone's having fun here!" Annette smiles, too brightly. "So no need to worry about us, we're practically the poster children for having fun." Even though Ingrid looks distinctly queasy and Ashe is staring at the table with red in his cheeks, hoping desperately that Claude didn't hear any of their conversation.

 _Wow, Annette is a terrible liar._ "Great! Glad to hear it. And it was no trouble at all, Mercedes--I love throwing a good party." Claude gives her a little bow, with a wink. "But I'd better be off to make my rounds. Gotta make sure the merriment is going as strong at other tables as it is at this one." He grins at Annette and walks off into the mingling crowd.

Annette slumps in her seat once he's gone. "Whew! That was a close one."

Mercedes can't bring herself to respond, only sigh and rest her chin in her palm. Goddess, she wasn't subtle in her hint; she hopes Claude got it...

* * *

As soon as Claude leaves the dining hall for the nighttime chill once more, he's no longer smiling. He thought he had prepared himself for this inevitability, but apparently not as well as he thought, if the trembling in his hands is any indication. He keeps walking toward the dorms, trying to gather his wits as he goes. He can't help feeling like some of them are getting left behind on the path, though. Mercedes couldn't have told them about that conversation, right? Although she did tell Hilda...probably Annette...he knew she was too good to be true. Sometimes, he hates being right. All the elation and camaraderie he felt right after the battle and at the beginning of the party drain away. Victory is good--great, even--and for the first time, he'd felt like maybe the other Deer truly saw him as their leader--as one of them. Saw the whole class as the family some part of Claude desperately wants them to be. But first Berith, and then the Lions...if Dimitri weren't here, he might be packing his bags tonight. Instead, he heads toward Dimitri's room.

The prince has gone through his bedtime routine under the assumption that someone, eventually, would come knocking at his door. Mercedes, probably, or maybe Ingrid, if his retainer were otherwise indisposed. Ashe seemed quite concerned, as well... With a sigh, Dimitri lowers himself onto the bed, and undoes the ribbon that fastens his braid. The thought that Felix might also be lurking on this floor, possibly privy to whatever conversation he'll have with whoever should come to see him... the dread in his gut roils so intensely that Dimitri doesn't think he'll be able to sleep for quite a time, now. But the expected knock soon sounds at his door, and... he answers it, despite debating leaving it be. He cracks open the door; it's almost as dark inside as it is out. "Yes? Who...?"

 _Oh. He really did go to bed._ "Hey, Mitya. It's me." Claude forces himself to breathe evenly, slowly. The fear that Dimitri will turn him away because of whatever Felix said is irrational, he tells himself. The fear that he'll want to stop sleeping in the same bed...maybe less irrational. He smiles without feeling it. "Did I wake you?"

Dimitri thinks he should probably feel some shame, standing there in his nightgown and lacking any ounce of regalia, but he can't. "No! Not at all. I... intended to try to sleep, even though I know I won't be able to, or-- probably won't be able to." He opens his door wider. Claude talks normally, stands normally, but as someone who's admired that smile and those eyes of his for so long, Dimitri can tell when it isn't genuine, when there's something wrong. "Please... come in."

Claude's relief is minimal, thinking about whatever this conversation they're about to have is going to be. But he steps inside the darkened room and makes his way to the...to the desk chair; he knows the room well enough to navigate to it without much light at all, and unlike _his_ room, there aren't what Hilda calls 'tripping hazards' all over the floor. He waits for Dimitri to shut the door before he says, with as much nonchalance as he can muster, "So, I heard Felix was being...Felix."

 _Of course._ Dimitri should've known Claude would have heard all of that, somehow. The door is shut carefully behind, and Dimitri lingers near it. "We disagreed over the outcome of the mock battle." As if Claude doesn't know Felix will disagree with him about anything, if only out of spite. "It isn't something so out of the ordinary as to garner concern. He may even forget about it come tomorrow; I was not the only one to chastise him for his attitude, so I doubt it will arise again."

A tight knot curls itself up in Claude's stomach. Dimitri's not telling him the whole truth. If _Dimitri_ of all people isn't telling him the whole truth... He's glad it's dark in here. Against his will, he can feel the walls coming up as if they were real and tangible, a glass wall he can see through, interact with the world through, but never step through fully, never break. It protects him. But he's never needed to protect himself from Dimitri before. He's a little terrified. "Ah, well, you can tell Felix that I apologize for being so talented that I caused him distress. ;)" A pause, as he tries to think. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I heard my name came up in that argument too."

"No... you heard correctly." Even in the low light, Claude can see Dimitri's hand play with the hair spilling over his shoulder, catching on a tangle. "Felix suggested that I'd thrown the mock battle so that the Deer would emerge victorious... or that I wasn't taking it seriously, at least. I... know that there was a great deal I didn't consider enough, and that my shoulders are those that bear the weight of our loss, but I--" He loses his train of thought quickly. Dimitri sits on his bed, suddenly aware that Claude hasn't made himself comfortable on it as he normally would–- "... I'm not so concerned about it. My classmates seem to understand the value of learning from our failures."

Claude was hoping that he'd misunderstood or misheard, but no. Hearing it directly from Dimitri feels like a blow to the stomach. "First of all, that's ridiculous. Has he _met_ you? Second, I take offense at the idea that the Deer didn't win on our own merits." His instinct is to get up and go sit with the prince, but he ignores it. For now. "Third, you can't put all the responsibility for losing on yourself. Think of it this way: if you'd won, would you take full responsibility for the victory?" He shakes his head; it was rhetorical. "No, of course not." He wanted this night to be perfect. He wanted to bask in the glow of triumph and friendship, and then chat with Dimitri about what they learned from each other until they fell asleep. So much for that. Once again, he makes an effort to be casual. "Why would Felix say he thought you threw the battle in the first place?"

"Claude, please. You know I..." Dimitri struggles with his words. "I've told you in the past I think it too much to say that I hardly know Felix anymore. Now, I'm not so certain. Why he would come to that conclusion... I cannot say. Perhaps any other Lion could, but not I: in reading him, I've become horribly inadequate." _As if I'm not in most things._ His room feels cold to him, and not in the pleasant chill of Faerghus sort of way. Even with Claude inside it, his room, or maybe Garreg Mach itself, feels daunting in its unfamiliarity.

 _So Dimitri doesn't intend to tell me at all._ That's...that's something Claude was not prepared for. He thought it might be awkward, thought the prince might take some sort of stand for propriety's sake, or protest that it doesn't matter what other people think, or...or anything but this. He could bring it up. He could reveal that he was eavesdropping on Dimitri's friends and ask him outright if it's true. It's what he would do if he were faced with anyone else. This is the point in the conversation where he would smugly lay all his cards out, walking them into the trap that called their bluff. But just the thought of it makes him feel sick, as he suddenly realizes that's _exactly_ what he almost did to Dimitri. What would the prince think of him then? So he keeps it to himself, and it feels like a thorn inside his mind, this one secret he can't tell the only person in the world who knows all the rest of them. Maybe he can talk to Mercedes, and then he'd be able to be honest about how he heard it. Sort of. Maybe.

"... I truly am happy for you." It slips out far too quietly, if Dimitri even meant to say it at all. "Even if it means facing defeat, seeing your brilliance is..."

Claude's expression softens, and he smiles for real. "Thanks, Mitya. But like I said, it was a team effort. Teach was incredible out there, and everybody did their part. Except Lorenz, but who's counting him anyway?" This is fine. He can talk about this. He leans forward a little in the chair. "But _you_ were amazing, too. I knew you would be. Seeing you inspire everyone to cut a path straight through enemy lines? You made me wish I was on your side. I had to come up with some really tricky positioning on the fly to deal with the way you built up momentum."

"Hah. You make it sound very... seamless. If only it were that easy—I think I'm merely fortunate our most capable fighters already know how to do battle together, how to support one another without such explicit orders. Though... I don't intend to turn our defeat into a tale to cry over. We did our best, and it's heartening that you would recognize it." Even with Claude here, every accusation in Felix's words keeps Dimitri on edge, and awake enough that he can't fathom trying to sleep just yet. But he lies down on the bed anyway. Looking the other boy in the eye is a little hard, now, for reasons he can't quite put his finger on. Perhaps it will be easier to talk, for both of them, with his eyes on the ceiling. "You know, it... is quite funny. Edelgard approached me, after the mock battle but before your party."

When Dimitri shifts position, Claude has to fight off another natural response to join him. He’s half-ready to protest like he always does when the prince downplays his own accomplishments, but something stills his tongue. He thinks back to the battle: watching Dimitri lead the charge as the Lions swept across the field, watching his skillful spearwork, hearing his battle cries. Claude got distracted once or twice by the sheer charisma Dimitri exuded on the battlefield, the way he could fight off multiple opponents at once by himself and yet never left his team behind or pursued any kind of glory. If Claude's being brutally honest with himself...he’s never been so sure of his feelings for Dimitri than he was this afternoon. Which is immensely frightening now that he knows the prince won’t talk about any such thing, even at the safe remove of recounting someone else’s words. “She did? What did she say?”

"Believe it or not, she not only congratulated us on a fight hard fought... but she also apologized." It surprised Dimitri at the time, but after the initial shock wore off, it became clear what happened. "I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining, but I didn't anticipate you would have actually approached her... please tell me that it was not an argument."

Claude smiles, genuinely warmed by the thought that he’d managed to both protect Dimitri, as he promised Rodrigue he would, and make peace. “Don’t worry, Mitya, it wasn’t. We actually had a fascinating chat about the Church. I meant to mention it to you, but we were so busy I didn’t get the chance.”

"Did you, now?" It must have been serious, then, for Claude to speak even a shadow of his opinions on the Church. Dimitri sits up in his bed, propped up by his elbow. "And I take it you've either come to a conclusion, or are closer to one?"

”I’m still mulling it over, but she has some surprisingly negative opinions of the Church herself. If we play our cards right, we might have the Empire as an ally.” He really wants to go join Dimitri on the bed...but does he dare? He was going to just ask if that sort of thing was still all right, but...if the prince won’t even acknowledge that there might be a reason to change things, he doesn’t think he can muster the courage for it.

"Really?" Dimitri isn't too deep in thought before he remembers Claude wouldn't have as much reference for his surprise. "Most leaders in the Empire have quite the deep attachment to the Church. Some are outright religious, and others more subtly so, but still donating funds and resources to it... that could spell trouble for her, in the future." Dimitri must be truly concerned about it, because he rolls onto his stomach, and purses his lips. "But it's good to know that we all have some common ground. Moreover..." He looks to Claude again, and the softest of smiles breaks across his face, just barely peeking out from behind his pillow. "... you actually gave her a chance. I'm proud of you, Claude."

Claude feels the heat creeping into his cheeks as he tucks his feet up under him on the chair, but for once he’s glad. It means that maybe Felix hasn’t ruined this for them. Maybe Dimitri’s silence on that matter isn’t a sign of worse to come. It’s a little scary to get his hopes up, having been burned so many times in the past, but...it’s _Dimitri_. He can trust Dimitri completely. ...right? “Heh...thanks. I was a little surprised at how reasonable she was being about it. And if I’m honest, I didn’t entirely trust it, but you know me - rewards are only as good as the risks you took to get them.” Then his brows draw lower. “That reminds me...she said she barely knew you. That doesn’t sound possible, given what you told me.” He keeps his voice quiet.

Dimitri's expression falls, though only slightly. "Yes. I've come to a similar conclusion. Even physically, she's changed—though my memories of that time are hazy, I know for certain... white hair... her hair was never that way. Never was she so stiff. Spirited, yes, but... informally so. I haven't the faintest idea how to describe it. She has changed."

"Really? ...huh." His eyes narrow the slightest bit, in an expression Dimitri recognizes as his 'secret-hunter' face. "Now _that's_ interesting. Since her opinions on the Church aren't your average Adrestian noble's, I doubt those two things are unrelated." Looks like he has more befriending to do with the future Emperor. "But let's save that for later." He yawns deliberately. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. A battle and a party all in one day, and I didn't even get an afternoon nap!" He stops there and lets Dimitri fill in whatever will come next. Will he ask Claude to stay like he usually does? Or...something else?

"Just be careful." It's warm, but warning, too. Dimitri can still cherish him while recognizing that Claude... has a tendency to go overboard. He's reluctant, somewhat, but it seems the two arrive at the same page: "You... aren't leaving, are you?"

The relief that eluded Claude earlier comes crashing down like a wave now. He'd be surprised if it wasn't obvious on his face, or at least in the way the tension seems to leave his body all at once. "Not unless you want me to." It's only half-serious, but only half-casual, too.

In lieu of words, Dimitri lifts the blankets from his bed and slides underneath, holds them up briefly, then... pauses. "You should drop those off for washing tomorrow, so go find your night clothes."

"...oh. Good call, heh. Don't fall asleep without me!" Claude grins, knowing full well Dimitri isn't going to, and quietly slips out the door and the short distance to his room. He changes into his usual loose pants and sleeveless shirt, and then he lingers for just a minute to focus on the moonlight filtering into the room, the sounds of cicadas and owls outside, the faint smell of the incense that's now burned down to nothing. It calms him, and lets him sift through his feelings with a little less urgency. There's a part of him that desperately fears what it means for Dimitri, of all people, to keep something from him; but, he thinks, that just makes him a hypocrite, because he's keeping something from Dimitri, too. Ascribing any reason beyond the purely emotional for the prince to do something like that makes no sense--almost everything Dimitri does is a result of his overflowing emotions. Besides, it's not like Claude is entitled to these things, he reminds himself sternly. Dimitri is his best friend, not...anything else.

Once he feels mostly back to normal, he retrieves something from under his bed and then moves to leave the room; it isn't until his hand is on the knob that he hears the faintest of footsteps coming down the corridor. He listens carefully...and thanks the gods that he wasn't too hasty when he hears the door between his room and Dimitri's open and close. He has no idea what would happen if he ran into Felix right now, and he's far from eager to find out. So it's been a few minutes by the time he returns to Dimitri's room, carrying a leather-bound book under one arm (and locking the door behind him, as usual). "I figured both of us might still be too wired from today to fall asleep, so I brought something that might help." He decides to abandon his original plan of discussing the details of the battle tonight; he'd rather take Dimitri's mind off of it for now.  
  
Dimitri gives him a curious glance, and scoots himself closer to the wall to make room (though Ser Pan has been brought down from the window sill and leant against the headboard, above his pillow). He could never complain, he adores hearing Claude read, but... he's only hoping that their professors have nothing too intense planned for the following morning. It's doubtful that either of them will be falling asleep at a decent time. "What is it?"

Claude could almost forget about everything that happened earlier, as he comes to slide under the covers with Dimitri. He plans to deal with Felix sooner rather than later, now...but scheming can wait. He stays sitting up with his legs folded under the blanket, opening the book up on his lap and paging through it. "Remember back in Derdriu, that time we went out in a boat on the lake and I taught you to read some Almyran poems?" He taps the book. "I thought we could revisit them, only this time I'll just read myself."

"Really?" Not that Dimitri needs to, but he even sits up and looks at the book, confirms it for himself once he recognizes a few words from those hazy memories of his. And then the prince settles back down, smiling into his pillow. "I... would love that."

Seeing that expression on Dimitri's face is like settling into a warm bath and letting the water melt all the tension out of his muscles, Claude thinks. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he really should take the prince at his word, that nothing Claude could do would change their friendship or his feelings, and tell him everything. It would help with this nagging worry, he knows. But he can't bring himself to do it. So instead he smiles back and flips a few pages, looking for the right poem to start with. "I thought you might. Let's start with this one--the title translates roughly to 'Eternal Sunlight Gently'...well, I guess the closest word is 'dispersed,' but it sounds a lot more poetic in the original, heh." Not that he'd say so, but he chose it because it reminds him of Dimitri. The prince's sunny smile and warm radiance have been tempered a bit by time and cares, by the burdens he bears; but they're still there, like the sun peeking through the clouds, and whenever the clouds part...well, best not to think about that feeling just now. He begins to read quietly, and about halfway through the poem one hand finds its way from the page to Dimitri's long hair, loose and spilling onto the pillow. He runs his fingers through it idly as he reads, gentle in working out any tangles he runs into.

Despite everything, it takes a mighty will for Dimitri to stay awake against all these combined forces—those soft words pouring from Claude's lips, and the gentle tug of fingers in his hair, the warmth of the bed and thunder far off in the distance, it's... more than he can take. Dimitri can pretend, almost, that they're back in Derdriu and that the weight of all that's transpired these past few years is nothing but a passing nightmare. For everything Claude's told him of Almyra, good and bad, times like these make Dimitri wish they could sweep across Fódlan together... a sigh leaves him, and with it he forces the restlessness from his body, out of every muscle. They can exist together without worry, and he's going to let himself enjoy it.

Claude reaches the end of that poem soon enough and goes on to read another, until he can tell how sleepy Dimitri is getting. He closes the book and tucks it carefully under the bed, just in case, before lying down on his back. "Looks like all it took was a little Claude magic to get you to relax, huh?" He internally winces even as the words come out of his mouth...after all that with Felix and the other Lions earlier, maybe he should be more careful about how he words these things from now on. He doesn't want to muddle everything even more than it already is, or make Dimitri feel like he's...angling for something.

"You always put me at ease." How effortlessly Dimitri admits it. He eases onto his side a little, moves his head just a bit closer to the hand on his pillow. "I would expect nothing less from you. Even still, as always, I must thank you." There are few things better to fall asleep to than the words of Almyran poets in his head, after all, and not another soul alive that he would feel safe with doing so.

"Of course, anytime." By contrast, Claude feels like he's more awake now than he was before; like he could just lie here watching Dimitri sleep all night long and never get tired of it. He would ordinarily have just stopped there, but...he says more, maybe out of a weird urge to make up for keeping things from the prince earlier. "Besides...it's nice to be able to speak my other language to someone, even if it's just reading aloud."

"I must admit, today... this day has made me feel worse in ways I have not felt in some time. The fight itself was cathartic, but the aftermath... I am not ignorant to the looks I received, nor to things said by those in my very house." Dimitri has never been a stranger to Felix's sentiments, even when Felix himself is not the one voicing them. "Knowing that you would be my friend through all of it..."

Claude tenses again. "Hang on a second." He turns to face Dimitri, propping his head up on one hand. "You mean it wasn't just Felix? What kind of looks?"

How nice this moment was, until Dimitri opened his mouth. His smile is placating, but not enough. "Nothing so worthy of note. I promise." A hand snakes up from beneath the blanket and covers Claude's, trapped gently atop his own hair. "I... did nothing out of turn, merely fought more spiritedly than most have seen me fight, perhaps. Not all of the members of my house grew up fighting as we did, you know: there are plenty of parts of Faerghus where our 'fighting spirit' is little more than a legend." He's said a lot that doesn't quiet explain anything, though, he realizes shortly after. Dimitri hums, squeezes Claude's hand. "Truly, I care not for opinions their holders aren't brave enough to voice. I would ask that you don't let them bother you, either."

 _Oh, I saw you fight, believe me._ Claude doesn't say that aloud, of course. But he'd been looking forward to watching the prince lead his house into battle, and it was more...well, more _breathtaking_ than he could have imagined. "...you know that's complicated for me," quietly. "But more importantly right now--Mitya, it's okay to be upset. It's _more_ than okay to hold Felix accountable for the way he treats you. I can't stand it." He shifts his hand to grip Dimitri's firmly. "He has to know what it's doing to you, and apparently he doesn't care. And I'm sick of it."

Dimitri doesn't know how Claude manages to have at least some sliver of truth behind his words at all times. He knows that he should think more of it, that it isn't something to simply brush off and leave behind. He's... more than aware that this only spells more trouble for them in the future, that the fate of their very country depends on their cooperation. But what can he do? For Dimitri to hold him accountable, would it change anything? Would it only serve to make it all more severe? "I have nothing I can say to him, in that regard. Not yet. But... I know that I can't stop you, either—and that I probably shouldn't. It just..." How can he possibly put this without sounding mad? "I don't want you to think that he's a bad person. He _isn't_. He can be fierce, perhaps even vicious, but he isn't someone to act on thoughts and feelings he doesn't feel justified to have. There is... a misunderstanding, somewhere, that I simply haven't found yet. Perhaps I don't even know where to begin looking for it."

"I trust your judgment." And Claude does. This isn't like times in the past, when Dimitri was a little too naive for his own good and Claude quietly dealt with the problem. This is one of the prince's oldest friends, and yet another person whose life was upended by the Tragedy of Duscur. _But_. "But I once promised Rodrigue I'd look out for you as much as you look out for me, in my own way. If there's a misunderstanding, I'll find out what it is. I got Edelgard to apologize, didn't I?" He smiles, trying to make this sound like it won't be that big a deal. He pauses, then, hesitant to push them back into the awkward, scary territory of things neither of them wants to talk about. "Hey, Mitya...you know that I would never believe you'd deliberately lead your people to a loss, right? Never in a million years."

"I know, Claude." Knowing he'll find support here, and acceptance, is perhaps the only constant Dimitri can rely on at this point. He hasn't let go of the other boy's hand just yet, but he hasn't made any other move, either... until just a few minutes ago, Claude looked nearly stricken in his uncertainty. Dimitri hums, just a soft single note, and lays his head back on the pillow. "I know. As it seems most of my classmates do as well. Though, should we use this to our advantage... maybe they would be even more willing to collaborate with your house, knowing there are things we can yet learn from you?" Almyran still buzzes around his mind, and even just remembering the poems is dragging Dimitri back into restfulness. He lets his eyes drift closed, and by now, Claude's hand may well be trapped in his grip. "We should sleep. Perhaps tomorrow... we can start devising that plan."

"Heh...you're starting to sound like me." But for once, Claude doesn't really feel like using this to their advantage. He'd rather forget about it, pretend it never happened, pretend the Lions aren't going to view him with suspicion or worse from now on...sure, they trust Dimitri, but they almost certainly don't trust _him_. The thought of sharing a classroom with them now, knowing they'll be watching his every move, every interaction he has with Dimitri in their presence, like everyone is always watching him and waiting for him to make a mistake--he thinks it might be unbearable. "Yeah, sure." He doesn't want to sleep right now, though, and he's not sure he even can. He lies back down, on his side this time, but Dimitri's eyes are closed. It feels a little like his window to say anything truly meaningful has closed, too. "Though I doubt your Lions will be particularly fond of my devious tactics. I can hear Ingrid's indignation now." It's meant to be a joke, but he's not sure he managed to make it sound like one.

"Ingrid will come to understand the value of your perspective one day. As they all will, hopefully." Dimitri's said before that Claude has seen so much more of the world than all of them combined, by now, and he still stands by such an observation. "Though... I would hope that those I consider friends could hold you with the same fondness that I do, eventually. I know how it is to live a Claudeless life, after all."

Claude chuckles, though he can't help wondering exactly what Dimitri means by 'fondness' and what it means that he hopes the others feel the same...no, he can't start analyzing everything the prince says. That way lies madness. And anxiety. "Sounds terrible," he says with a cheeky grin. After another moment's hesitation, he shifts over a little to pillow his head on Dimitri's shoulder. He may not have the courage to confess his crime or ask the hard questions, but he can scrape enough together for this. "...I'll try not to let what others say get to me." Quieter, now. "But I do want to talk to Felix. Just talk, I promise. I'm just as fond of you too, you know. I don't like seeing you upset."

If Dimitri smiles to himself, too, is it such a bad thing? "... alright. I trust you. And... thank you for giving him a chance, as well. I know that your continued patience is a lot to ask of you, after how many times I've come to you about this..." He heard Felix in the hall not that long ago, before Claude returned, and it's with this in mind that his voice dips into a whisper, soft as his breaths rustling Claude's hair. When Dimitri chuckles, it's only barely there. "What a world it would be, if we all could get along..."

Claude waits briefly before he replies, swallowing a moment of overwhelming gratitude for Dimitri’s trust that’s familiar by now but still never loses its impact. “What a world it _will_ be,” he whispers back. “We’re going to create that world. Me and you.”

"You and me." Even when Dimitri isn't certain he can do it, knowing Claude will be beside him... Dimitri sweeps the covers up higher, draws them up to Claude's shoulder and lets his hand stay there, arm draped lightly across his body. It's difficult to imagine himself living to a time beyond the academy, but there was a time in the past he never thought he would get this far, too: if he has Claude at his side, if he takes it one day at a time... "Sweet dreams."

Claude couldn't describe it if he tried, the immense comfort it is to have Dimitri here like this even after everything that happened today. Maybe he can start really believing that nothing could drive the prince away, that they'll always have each other. Maybe. Claude's never been good at believing things, taking things on faith. He needs evidence, solid information, something real that he can see and touch. Which is why the only times he can truly bring himself to believe he won't lose Dimitri are times like this. "Night, Mitya."


	13. Garreg Mach: Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude helps the Blue Lions plan a surprise party for Mercedes' birthday. When he drops by the Eagles' classroom to chat with Edelgard afterward, he meets someone unexpected.

Claude and Dimitri's plans for collaboration between the Lions and the Deer don't materialize right away, mostly because Claude subtly avoids the rest of the Lions for weeks. Oh, he still waits outside their classroom for Dimitri after classes are over, and he still waves to them when he passes them in the courtyard or at the dining hall. But he hasn't exchanged more than five meaningful words with any of them, even Mercedes, since the night of the mock battle. So when he makes plans with Dimitri to go to the spice festival at the dining hall, so Claude can volunteer to help out with cooking duty and make Dimitri some _actually_ spicy food, he doesn't expect the invitation to sit in on Annette's brainstorming session for Mercedes' upcoming birthday surprise.

At first, he makes excuses about being too busy cooking, but as usual Dimitri sees right through him and convinces him that none of the Lions are going to hold anything that happened last moon against him, and that Mercedes asks about him quite often, so he knows she would appreciate it if Claude came to her birthday party. He relents--as ever, he has a hard time saying no to the eager warmth in those big blue eyes--and now, with the spicy dishes cooked and served, he finds himself sitting between Dimitri and Sylvain, huddled together at a table and listening to Annette stage-whisper as though the entire dining hall can't see them obviously conspiring over something. So far everyone has been perfectly friendly, but people always are when they have something to lose by expressing their true feelings...most of the school has learned by now not to insult Claude when Dimitri's in the room. Still, Claude feels like they're all watching him or sneaking glances at him out of the corner of their eyes. He's not sure whether they really are or whether that's just his worries talking.

"It's time to begin Operation: Mercie's Birthday Surprise!" Annette announces, inked quill in hand hovering over a piece of paper. "Suggestions, please!" Claude wonders what it would be like to have a surprise party thrown for him. In Almyra and in Derdriu both, his birthdays have always been big deals, of course; but they're never celebrations for _him_. Just for his position, the accident of his birth. And they're certainly never surprises, just stuffy political affairs full of jostling for influence and competing over who can give the most lavish gift that makes the best impression on the heir. But you can't exactly _ask_ people to throw you a surprise party, can you? That would defeat the whole purpose. Claude doesn't offer any suggestions. Even he's not sure whether it's because he doesn't have any or just to avoid drawing attention to himself.

The Lions are quick to make up for his silence... or Sylvain is, at least. "Well... seems to me that most of the stuff she likes is a little hard to do together. Doesn't she still paint and read and all that?"

"She does," that's Dimitri, "and so perhaps they aren't bad ideas for presents, but... I agree, there must be something more we can do for her." The prince must be quite deep in thought, to not have even touched his food by now. They've thrown ideas around before, in briefer sessions, but never got very far before Mercedes would appear and nearly ruin her own surprise... "I would think it goes without saying there ought to be sweets involved. I don't know who, besides her, could be so good at baking... hm." Dimitri gives up stirring at his soup to take a roll from the center platter. "And she still doesn't quite like being so... active. It can't be too strenuous for her."

"Hmm." Ingrid takes a bite from her spicy meat bun and muses while she chews. "Well, it might not be quite the right time of year for it, but I bet she would enjoy visiting one of those spooky haunted houses. You know the ones."

Ashe pales. "A...a haunted...house?" His voice is too high-pitched. "Ha ha, don't be ridiculous, Ingrid. Those aren't real. ...right?"

Sylvain drums his hands on the table idly. "Well. Not a bad idea, but you bring up a valid point: don't know where we'd find a haunted house around here, especially one that's pretend-haunted and not real-haunted." _And finding an empty hut we wouldn't get in trouble for commandeering... yeah._ "We'd have to do a lot of planning to do that, but maybe we should keep that in mind? Scary stuff in general, that is."

"What could possibly scare Mercedes at this point, however?" Dimitri asks. "And.... are you all certain it's the scary stories she enjoys, and not simply scaring _you_ all?"

"No, I'm not certain of that at all!" Annette is pretty sure it's the opposite, actually! "And anyway, th-there's no need to make her birthday _scary_. It's supposed to be a happy celebration! With cake, and...stuff!"

"Yeah. Right. So back at square one." Sylvain kicks his chair back, and rocks on its legs. "All of this makes for some pretty good gifts, but not much in the way of something to _do_. But she doesn't like doing much of anything that's that physical _anyway_. So..."

"Is a party really necessary?" Felix's plate is piled higher than usual with the spiciest things he could find, and Claude makes a mental note of it. "Do we have to _do_ anything? Aren't gifts and a cake enough?"

"Felix, you're missing the point!" says Annette, and Claude muses that she's probably the only person on the continent who could say such a thing without reprisal. He makes a mental note of _that_ , too. "It's not _about_ the cake, it's about showing Mercie how much we love her by doing something special."

"Yes, indeed," Dimitri agrees. "Even if it were only to be a smaller party, it doesn't feel right to settle for something so ordinary, I suppose. It does make me wonder... what sort of things we could even do here in the monastery. If they have time, I'm certain the chefs here wouldn't mind baking some sweets for the occasion, or we can go into one of the villages at the foot of the mountain for those, perhaps? Mn..."

Despite himself, all this talk of party planning has gotten Claude's mind churning over it. He sits forward. "Wait a second. She likes sweets, sure, but she likes the actual baking, too. Now, baking isn't usually a group activity, I agree. But anything can be a group activity if you make it competitive." He grins. "We could hold a bake-off right here in the dining hall, and Mercedes gets to be the judge. That way, we don't have to find a cake ahead of time, and she gets to sample a bunch of different things."

"That's...actually not a bad idea," Ingrid says.

"While I'd probably question just how many of us are really all that competent in the kitchen, that's more than _I_ got." Sylvain seems like he's seriously considering it, though, and leans his chair forward again, sounding more interested now. "Yeah. You could even open it up to other houses too, if you wanted. Heh. And maybe get some professors involved too, huh?"

Claude flashes Sylvain a smile. "I like the way you think, Gautier."

"Oooh, I bet Mercie would love walking around and seeing what everyone was making!" Annette writes a few enthusiastic notes down on her paper.

"We could even do it in pairs," Ashe puts in, "so no one feels too nervous about participating even if they're not so confident in the kitchen."

"Now the question is... whether we are going to hide this from Mercedes or not," Dimitri says. "I don't imagine it would be easy to keep such a thing a secret while making sure enough people know to gather a decent number of participants."

"Yeah... girls around here gossip way too much." Sylvain doesn't seem to notice the nearly identical narrow-eyed looks Dimitri and Ingrid cast his way. "But imagine the look on her face when you bring her to the dining hall and it's all prettied up with those flowers of hers, huh? And how she'll look when she realizes what's happening?"

Annette's scribbling is feverish now, as she tries to keep up. "Oh, she would be so happy! Isn't there some way we could keep it a secret from her?"

Claude glances between them all, bemused. "Am I the only one around here who passes notes in class while Teach isn't looking? It's not _that_ hard to keep a secret."

The look Dimitri sends Claude's way is far less accusatory than that he had for Sylvain. If anything, it's hesitant. "I don't know, Claude. That is a lot of people to entrust a secret to, even if not such a dire one..."

Claude is too aware, now, of all the eyes at the table on him--or, maybe, on the two of them. He does what he always does when people stare at him: he ignores them. "Ah, but you're forgetting one important thing, Your Princeliness--they'll _want_ to keep the secret, because it's for Mercedes. It's a bit of a gamble, but I'm willing to hang our hopes on everyone wanting to make sure she has the best birthday we can give her."

Ingrid gives Claude an evaluative glance; he thinks she might even be a tiny bit impressed. "I'm surprised, Claude. You usually don't strike me as the sentimental type."

"Hey, it's not sentiment," he protests easily. "It's pure scheme."

"Undoubtedly." Dimitri is smiling now, though. "If you believe it will work, I see no reason not to try." The prince leans in closer and launches into another of his leaderly ramblings, about where they ought to look for their decorations, what sorts of ingredients they may need and who of their professors they ought to consult...

Claude sits back again and watches Dimitri work. Whenever _he_ does this sort of thing with the Deer, it's a little bit chaos. They're not shy about interrupting or contradicting him, and he in turn is not shy about debating the matter among them all until it's settled one way or another. The Lions are completely different; they all hang on Dimitri's every word, and for the prince's part, he's definitely speechifying more than talking. Claude doesn't get to see Dimitri like this all that often, and he likes it. Seeing Dimitri in his wheelhouse, taking charge and being confident...he likes it more than he'd admit to, really.

He catches himself almost staring at Dimitri at about the same time that he notices Sylvain glance at him for the briefest moment and wink, and Claude suppresses an embarrassed blush. He's not sure whether those two things were related, or if Sylvain's winking at him for some entirely different reason. And Sylvain doesn't give him any time to react, either--by the time he could have done so, the other boy's already looking elsewhere. _Huh._

"If anyone should have any suggestions," says Dimitri, coming to the end of his speech, "certainly feel free to voice them, but I think it safe to say that we've decided on an idea, yes? Thank you, Claude, for that."

Claude gives the whole table a theatrical little bow from his seat. "Always glad to put my schemes to good use and foster inter-house relationships." It's not until a few seconds after he says it that he realizes how it could easily be interpreted, and wonders whether Dimitri would hold it against him if he booked it right now...

Dimitri's face doesn't change, though, so if he noticed... he's making a good effort to keep himself from dwelling on it for too long. "Speaking of, I suppose then that you can start disseminating this to those in your house that may be interested. We can have a discussion with Edelgard, as well..." The prince seems to remember what they came to the dining hall specifically to do, and dips his roll into his soup to take another bite, finally. "Do you have all of that, Annette?"

"Yep, got it, Your Highness!" Annette checks over her notes one more time, nods to herself, and then looks up at everyone with a little squeal. "I'm so excited! Mercie will _love_ this."

Claude relaxes a little. Maybe Dimitri was right--maybe they really did all just forget about what happened the night of the battle and put it behind them. Maybe there was no reason to avoid them all this time. And maybe he should stop putting off his discussion with Felix...he'll do it soon, he decides. Not that he hasn't decided that before, too, but this time he tells himself he means it. Hopefully.

The rest of their lunch is largely uneventful, and their discussion of Mercedes' birthday splinters off into a few different conversations; satisfied the others are sufficiently occupied, Dimitri turns to Claude and flashes him one of those smiles, the small, secretive sort. "Thank you for that, Claude. I... realize that wasn't a matter you needed to worry about." His hands are busy, as he seems to remember the soup in front of him all over again, but there's the lightest bump of a knee against Claude's under the table.

Claude returns the light bump, dipping his own bread into a sauce that's much spicier than most of what's on the table, and smiles back up at him. "Are you kidding? Party planning, scheming to keep a secret, _and_ a competition?" He ticks them off on his fingers. "I'd be disappointed if I _didn't_ get to help out. Besides, you were right--Mercedes is my friend, too." And he thinks that might be actually true, though he's not sure about the rest of the Lions, the ones who see Dimitri as their prince first and their friend second. " _And_ I like getting to watch you do the leader thing. All princely and whatnot." He winks.

"Yes, well--" Dimitri manages not to sputter, but his ears are red, just a tinge. "I'm glad. That you can say that, that is. Even if you hadn't been here today, I would have asked if you would like to come anyway—Mercedes will be overjoyed to see you there." It's difficult, mulling over what kinds of things he shouldn't say here, what won't make Claude uncomfortable even if no one at the table is listening to them... at least the others aren't shying away from whatever it is they're talking about. Dimitri leans in a little closer, so that Annette and Sylvain's laughter will drown him out. "Are you sure that you're going to be alright with that?"

This isn't the first time that night has come up in conversation again in the last few weeks, but it _is_ the first time Claude feels like he might be able to actually let that conversation happen instead of deflecting and steering it elsewhere. His instinct is to tell Dimitri that of course he's sure, and of course it's fine, but the prince has gone out of his way to ask--and ask quietly--and he's reminded of the rush of gratitude that overcame him the day he arrived here. Someone caring this much about how Claude feels is a precious and rare thing, and he never wants to take Dimitri for granted. He leans in a bit closer, too. "That...was actually one of the reasons I came with you today. To see how it went. And hey, Felix didn't threaten either one of us even once, so I count that as a win." He grins, but that look he got from Sylvain still nags at him. He sobers a bit. "I know I've been a coward about this." He still feels it, the urge to leave before anything happens, to observe them all carefully to see who's watching him in return. He's aware that the private little huddle he and Dimitri are having right now is probably not helping, but the simple fact of the prince's presence feels like a shield. "But you'll be there, so I'm sure it will be fine."

"A coward wouldn't persist in spite of their fears. Please, don't say such a thing about yourself. And..." Dimitri pauses to take a sip of his soup. They look a lot less suspicious if they continue eating, he supposes. "If at any point you should wish to leave, none would stop you. There's no need to force yourself."

"Fair enough. Although I have to say, I'm actually looking forward to it. Bringing everyone together for a friendly competition and then getting to eat the results afterward sounds like a great time." Claude hesitates, then, and takes a few bites of his own meal to cover up that hesitation. "Want to be my baking buddy?"

Dimitri smiles, and lifts his spoon again. "I would love to be." No hesitation for him, no consideration of any other answer. He chews a bite of pheasant meat and glances at the table beyond theirs, dotted with Golden Deer students. "I do wonder how many would team up with those from other houses?"

"I almost wish we could make it a requirement," Claude muses, following the prince's gaze, "but this is a birthday party, not an official inter-house event. Still, I'll suggest it to the Deer as an opportunity. Maybe they'll take me up on it. I doubt Lorenz would pass up a chance to work with Ferdinand. In fact, he'd probably insist." He adopts an exaggerated snobbish tone. "'My goodness, Claude, you can't possibly expect me to create a culinary masterpiece without the second-most noble of noble nobles by my side!'"  
  
"I would think the two of them would sooner fight than agree on much. The moment one of them would need to take charge over the other, I believe any noble gentility would vanish into thin air." It isn't particularly subtle, but Dimitri glances over his shoulder at another table that seems sparsely reserved for a few of the Black Eagles. _A little... odd._

"Unfortunately, you're probably right." With a rueful smile, though; the thought of someone else putting Lorenz in his place for once instead of the other way around isn't exactly unpleasant. Claude glances back at the Eagles too, more subtly.

Dimitri turns back to his food again in a moment. "My greatest concern is keeping this friendly competition of ours friendly, for Mercedes' sake. I couldn't bear for squabbling to break out at her celebration. We will keep a close eye on things."

"Absolutely. As house leaders, we have all the excuse we need to at least enforce civility. Here's hoping Felix manages to work with Annette so we don't have to deal with... _that_." Claude chuckles a bit, though. "Though to be honest, Mercedes herself might be better at quelling any arguments than either of us. She has a way of occasionally dishing out gentle brutality. It's impressive."

"So you _do_ understand her brand of 'mothering.' Though that also reminds me that we should speak to Edelgard on the matter sooner rather than later." Dimitri stands and takes his tray in hand. He's hardly eaten even half of what's on it. "Perhaps you might stop in and see her while I speak to the staff? I want to be certain we won't have the Academy ushering us out before the competition can even begin."

"Right. I don't think Seteth likes me, anyway. To be fair, I _am_ a brat." Claude grins and stands too, having basically inhaled his food long ago, and gives the rest of the Lions a wave before heading out with Dimitri. _This...was good. I think. Maybe things will be okay. Dimitri seems to be back to normal, and maybe that whole thing before was just...a misunderstanding. Or something._

Claude gives Dimitri a wave, too, when they split for their respective conversations, suggesting they meet up again for dinner later if the prince isn't busy. Dimitri agrees, and soon Claude is swinging by the Eagles' classroom. _What_ was _with that little Eagle clique in the dining hall, anyway? Why are they so insular? Hmm._

The classroom is even more devoid of its students than the dining hall was, though it only makes it easier to spot Edelgard far in the back, leaning against Manuela's desk. And she isn't alone; even in the dark of the room, there's a familiar mop of blue-green hair and the back of a dark cloak stood beside her, back to the door. Claude's noticed quickly: Edelgard's eyes flicker to him over the professor's shoulder. Whatever she was saying a second before, she doesn't finish the sentence. "... Claude. Did you need something?"

"Hey, Edelgard." _Huh...that's weird._ "And Teach! This is a surprise, gotta admit. You aren't thinking of switching classes on me, are you?" His tone is light but his gut is telling him this is too strange not to take seriously. How well does he really know Berith, anyway...?

The professor turns to face him and raise an eyebrow-- _Oh. That. That is not Berith._

"Claude," again from Edelgard, though a little less harsh, "have you two met?" This person is... startlingly close to the professor from face to wardrobe, actually, though the little differences are apparent soon enough. The stance they take, the length of their hair, the eyes (somehow...still blank, but in a different way? Does that even make sense?). "This is Claude von Riegan, house leader to the Golden Deer. Claude, this is Byleth... your professor's sister." The introduction only gets him a silent nod.

His eyebrows lift. "Teach has a sister? News to me." He crosses the room to offer Byleth a hand to shake. "But it's a pleasure, Byleth. You thinking of joining up and teaching the Black Eagles? Where have you been all this time?" _Something still doesn't sit right with this. Why would Teach and Jeralt never mention her?_

"My work takes me to other parts of Fódlan." Clipped, but Byleth does actually accept the handshake. "... The Archbishop did offer me a position within the Academy, but I declined."

Edelgard approaches to stand beside her, though spares a not-so-subtle look toward the door. She barely opens her mouth before something in the doorway catches her attention, and soon Byleth's and Claude's as well. "... Professor. " It's Edelgard who addresses them first. Byleth looks back to Claude, nods, and relinquishes their handshake to step around him. It is indeed Berith stood in the doorway, though with only a fraction of their usual composure, somehow. They clutch a small stack of papers close to their chest, and even look a little... out of breath?

"Speak of the devil," Claude says. "Hey, Teach. How come you never told me you had a sister?" _And what is she doing in here conspiring with Edelgard in the shadows about things they stop talking about as soon as I come into the room?_

The professor fumbles with their papers for a minute as they come near, before eventually giving up and setting them aside on a desk to sign. 'Have I not?' Berith doesn't really look like they're much of anything, ever, but that also means they don't really look like they're lying, at least? 'Probably not. Sorry.' The air goes quiet again, but that doesn't seem to hinder the silent conversation they have with Byleth, once they both meet eyes. Berith glances to Edelgard, wondering, before coming back to Claude. 'I didn't mean to interrupt. But we were going to see our father.'

"If you need to go, by all means." Edelgard says. "Claude and I likely have house leader business to discuss, at any rate." Berith steps back to take their stack of papers again, though not before giving Claude's arm the gentlest of nudges. Their one-handed signing is a different beast entirely, but at least they keep it brief: 'Classroom, later?'

Claude takes a second to parse that and nods minutely back, giving both Eisners a wave as they head out. He waits until they're most likely out of Byleth's earshot to say anything else. "So, for someone who's been away all this time, she sure seemed to be buddy-buddy with you. Anything you feel like telling me?"

"I think you of all people would understand the allure of someone with no direct ties to the Church." Looks like Edelgard isn't bothering with the sugarcoating today. "What's more, I overheard that she arrived here from the northwestern border of Adrestia. But you obviously came here to talk about something. What is it?"

He grins. "Ah, so even the vaunted Adrestian Princess gets crushes like the rest of us! Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He gives her a wink. _Because if she manages to find out about me with Dimitri, I need leverage..._ "But yes, I did come here for a reason. Mercedes' birthday is coming up soon, and I was chatting with the Lions about it, and we decided to have a bake-off and invite all three houses. So consider this your formal invitation."

Edelgard doesn't bite. "I'll let the Black Eagles know, then." And then she sizes him up, maybe a little... exaggeratedly, for her usual fare. "Did you come all this way for _only_ that, or am I right to assume there's something else? Did you think that I would say 'no' outright?"

He shrugs. "No, but I like doing these things in person. Lets us all get to know each other better." He hops up to sit on a desk. "Although I did notice that your Eagles tend to keep to themselves in the dining hall. Kind of a shame, after we had that big party where everybody came together, don't you think?"

"Think what you like, but many of them are... reserved by habit." Edelgard being one of them, one would probably assume. The number of times the Black Eagles have had a full table in the dining hall eclipses only the number of times she's bothered to eat there at all. "And such formal relationships are common in the Empire. Even with family." Not that how... disparate they all seem to be even remotely helps.

Claude smirks. "If I were going to think what I liked, I wouldn't have asked. I don't ask questions for no reason." So maybe the Empire is just That Kind of Place--worse than Faerghus, if the Eagles are representative. Well, he and Mitya will have to change that, someday, too. "In that case, I'm definitely interested in your house making a good showing at Mercedes' party. The more they mingle with the rest of us, the more they'll see the benefits of doing it. Make some friends. Have some fun."

"You seem so thrilled by the prospect of disaster." For what it's worth, though, Edelgard sounds a little more amused than she does annoyed, even as she crosses her arms. "... regardless, I will let them know. I won't be guaranteeing any attendance, however."

"That's all I ask." He laughs. "Ordinarily I'd say a little disaster never hurt anybody, but in this case, Dimitri and I are planning to keep a close eye on everyone so that _doesn't_ happen this time. For Mercedes' sake."

"Perhaps it would be prudent to only inform _some_ of the Eagles, then." The look on her face when she pushes away from Manuela's desk says she knows exactly who they are already, but she's quick to change the subject: "What are you doing helping plan a party for Mercedes?" It's not... an accusation, or it doesn't sound like one, at least. She doesn't look like she's waiting for him to back himself into a corner, or anticipating how he'll dodge it.

"What, can't a guy foster a little unity?" He dodges it anyway, although this isn't untrue either. The more he can encourage people to make friends from other nations, the easier their job of making peace will someday be. He hopes.

"There is some merit in such an endeavor, yes." There's more Edelgard isn't saying, questions on the tip of her tongue, but none of it goes unsaid for long. "But almost every time I've seen you around the monastery has been with at least one 'lion' in tow." And she doesn't have to name which Lion it usually is, of course. "I merely find it curious, nothing more. And I mean no offense by it, if you took it that way."

He's very tempted to figure out a reason to just leave before the rest of this conversation happens, but...Edelgard isn't one to lie outright, as far as he can tell. She tends to say what's on her mind, even if it's cutting, or rude in a way she didn't intend. And acting like there's something to hide will make her _more_ curious, not less...best to satisfy her questions so she doesn't ask more of them. Hopefully. "If you're talking about Dimitri, you can just say so." He shrugs. "He and I have been friends for a while now, since before we came here. You probably know this, but House Riegan used to be a branch of House Blaiddyd, and we still keep in touch pretty regularly. So after the Tragedy, Dimitri came to stay with us in Derdriu for a little while." _And since we're asking personal questions about Dimitri..._ He tilts his head, curious. He doesn't want to break the prince's confidence, obviously, but something weird is going on here...he lowers his voice. "I thought I heard that you stayed in the Kingdom at some point, is that right?"

The patience in Edelgard's expression fades into confusion, the longer she listens. She doesn't answer right away, and doesn't even muster a deflection to hide her surprise. If anything... she doesn't notice letting her own face fall. "I've never been to the Kingdom," she says. Her eyes snap up to look at him again, properly; they'd drifted elsewhere, once she got lost in her thoughts. "I apologize, but where did you hear that?"

 _There's that look on her face again...what's going on here?_ "No need for apologies. Just something that came up while I was studying Adrestian and Faerghan politics with my grandfather, but I must have misunderstood. Or he was just wrong." Dimitri was definitely not wrong. So she doesn't remember, somehow--not only doesn't remember Dimitri, but doesn't remember going to Faerghus at all. How is that possible? Magic, maybe?...another mystery that needs solving.

"I see." As shaken as she seems, she's recovering admirably. The crease in her brow and the hunch of her shoulders both disappear, even if her eyes are still just a little too distant. "Odd as I find it that your grandfather would share such a thing, regardless of its validity, I suppose I should have expected you would come prepared. I don't think I speak only for myself in saying I would not have anticipated you in the same way."

 _Ah, here it is. Of course._ 'You came out of nowhere, Claude, are you _really_ of Riegan descent?' Lorenz's sharp insistence that he should never have come to Leicester at all lingers in his mind. He smiles, but he's not sure if it comes out as effortlessly as usual. It doesn't _feel_ like it, anyway. "You sure don't speak only for yourself there, I can tell you that. Seems like no one anticipated me. I guess I'm just full of surprises."

"I suppose swooping in so dramatically fits what I know of you, little as it is." Edelgard looks to debate with herself for a second. "Please, don't give me that look. Of the two of you, Dimitri has a far more effective 'kicked puppy' face, if you would call it such a thing. Neither does bitterness suit you."

He blinks and can't help laughing, though the feeling doesn't vanish. Well, it never does, he supposes. He'll just have to prove them all wrong.

She makes to leave, and he hops down from the desk to follow her out. She stops, though, and faces him again once she's neared the door. "If you would humor me, I would like your opinion on something. Completely unrelated to the topic at hand, rest assured."

"Oh? Sure thing, Princess. I have lots of opinions." He winks at her, which she ignores as usual, but she doesn't explain herself right away.

They walk in silence for some time before Edelgard speaks up, low. "You wish to know what Byleth and I were speaking of, still?"

Claude wasn't expecting that. So his hunch that there was more to it was right. He pats himself on the back, metaphorically--his hunches usually are. "I'm all ears," just as quietly.

"I won't claim to know much of anything about that odd professor of yours, but in the short hour or so that I've known her, Byleth has been nothing less than an open book. Surely you were wondering where she's been all this time, but I find it even more curious what brought her here to the monastery at all." Their walk isn't a far one, though it does cross grounds normally only the staff tend to traverse, past the bridge to the cathedral and out into a courtyard far smaller than most in the monastery. It's here where Edelgard takes a brief pause. "She told me that she came here to see her mother, at her father's request. Have you heard of such a thing? It's difficult enough to imagine that they could be _anyone's_ children, what with the reputations that they've garnered in their time, but I wouldn't have imagined a relative of theirs could be... here."

 _Teach really is mysterious, huh?_ Claude's always wanted to dig further into their past and what makes them tick--and with all their skill, he definitely wouldn't mind earning their loyalty once he becomes duke--but it's been slow going, not least because they barely seem to be paying attention to what's going on around them half the time. If Byleth is chattier...hmm. "Their mother, huh?" He shakes his head. "Teach has never mentioned anything like that. You'd think they would, or at least that Jeralt would; but then, who knows how the minds of Eisners work? Teach never mentioned that they had a sister either, so who knows--maybe their family isn't very close, or they just don't like to advertise their relationships. Then again, Teach was happy enough to reveal that Jeralt was their father right away, so...I'm as perplexed as you are."

"I doubt it's intentional. Byleth mentioned meeting her mother as if it were merely another day at work. And yet somehow, I haven't noticed a single person within this monastery who so much as resembles either of them. Coupled with the ways in which she spoke of her mother, it led me to another train of thought." Edelgard starts walking again, this time toward a small set of stone stairs in the corner of the yard. What awaits them at the bottom feels even more claustrophobic, a small patch of greenery bearing a few modest headstones. She glances to Claude, and frowns. "Though only briefly, I did ask around as to who they've laid to rest here, and got hardly anything for my efforts. Perhaps it's rather presumptuous of me..."

Claude's been here once or twice in his explorations of the grounds, but never had much reason to linger. Now, he pauses in front of the longer row of headstones and crouches, giving them a closer look. "...but you think she might be dead, and buried here. Interesting. Not many graves here, so they're probably all people who were important to the Church. Which might explain why Rhea was so gung-ho about making Teach a professor out of nowhere., and why Jeralt was talking like he was obliged to return against his will." Not that Jeralt said such a thing to _him_ , but...well, Claude's not above eavesdropping.

"Not to mention that she would offer such a position to a stranger, who had been here not even for an entire day. Not that I would uphold the Church as a bastion of knowledge, or even of logic, but there is... a certain degree to these things. A level after which I can't suspend my disbelief. And all of this, it borders on ludicrousness." Edelgard does well to keep her expression neutral, mournful, even, as they speak in whispers. Why she's telling him all of this, who can say—maybe it's just the finding of a kindred spirit, who is also having a difficult time grasping what all of this means.

"I have to agree. It's pretty unprecedented. Don't get me wrong, Teach knows their stuff when it comes to battle, but a mercenary is hardly a combat instructor. And it's not like they're much of a people person, either, I'm sure you've noticed." A wry smile; he likes Berith, but this is undeniably fact.

"Hm. I do intend to find out what's going on, of course. I suspect that you intend to investigate in your own way, yes?"

He stands and nods, with a brief grin. "Obviously. Dimitri knows the Church better than either of us, so I'll see if he's got any thoughts, too." Maybe she wouldn't want to involve him, but Claude doesn't care. The thought brings up a memory though, and he regards her with curiosity. "I've heard that I wasn't the only one who skipped the choir festival the other day. Not a fan of singing, or is it the Church's self-aggrandizement you wanted a break from?"

"Must it be a choice between the two?" she says, putting a weary hand to her head briefly. He huffs a quiet laugh, and then finally Edelgard straightens and spares him a glance. "I care little for those sorts of celebrations. Not only for the reasons you mentioned, but... if this is a discussion that truly goes anywhere, it's one that should be discussed later. Elsewhere."

"Hey, I'm not busy. If you want it to be 'elsewhere' and 'now,' instead." He clasps his hands behind his head and looks up at the sky, clouding over but with sunlight still streaming through. This really could be a major breakthrough. And working closely with her will give him excuses to find out what her deal is, too...

"A tempting offer. But I do have other things to do right now, things of more immediate importance. If the anticipation doesn't kill you, you can find me after all this about Mercedes' birthday passes. You don't seem to have had any issues tracking me down thus far." Maybe it should go without saying, but just as she turns to depart, she thinks to speak up once again. "I'll assume your confidence, as you can assume mine."

Claude gives her a little bow, only a _little_ mocking. "Of course--though like I said, I plan to speak with Dimitri about it. Other than that, we're golden. No promises on death by anticipation, though." He grins, but he does also, in fact, have other things to do, so he bids her farewell.


	14. Garreg Mach: Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude learns what it was Sylvain wanted to say to him, and what Berith wanted to meet him in the classroom about. Both conversations leave him with more questions, some troubled thoughts, and no easy answers.

When Claude meanders back to the Golden Deer classroom to find Berith like he promised he would, someone almost tramples him on the way in, rushing out way too fast; the only thing that saves them both is Claude's quick reflexes as he flattens himself against the doorframe. "Whoa, why the big hurry--"

He cuts off in surprise when he registers who it is that nearly slammed into him, and there's that easy smile of Sylvain's the second _he_ realizes who he's run into. "Fancy running into you again." Leonie slips past him from behind, frowning at the back of his head before she heads out, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

 _...was he here looking for me?_ Claude smiles back, recalling that wink Sylvain threw his way while he was busy mooning over Dimitri, and it's a little eerie how much he feels like he's looking into a mirror. "Hey, Sylvain. Fancy that, indeed. Actually, if you've got a minute, I was hoping we could chat--although I certainly wouldn't want to keep you from whatever brought you to our lovely classroom."

"Nah, I'm all ears. Was swinging by to say hi, but I've got nowhere to be. Only person around was Leonie, and I think I've talked her ear off more than she cared for." Sylvain doesn't speak with even an ounce of apology in his voice, though. He's completely unbothered as he lifts his arms above his shoulders, and crosses them behind his head. "What's on your mind?"

 _Gee, can't imagine why Leonie got sick of talking to you..._ Claude likes Sylvain, though. He's not sure if it's because they seem to have a lot in common or because he's _definitely_ hiding something major underneath all those layers of insincerity. Not to mention the silly stories Dimitri used to tell him about Sylvain as a kid. Claude thinks it's a shame he never got to meet the other Lions back then, instead. But maybe if Claude befriends Sylvain _now_ , he can teach him how to act like women are, you know, people. "It's about what's on _your_ mind, in fact. But let's not hog the classroom--feel like taking a walk? The weather's still a little chilly for me, but for you this must be practically summer, huh?"

"Even our warmest days are still colder than this, but I'm not complaining." But Sylvain nods, and falls into step when Claude starts on that walk of his. The grounds are still just a little sparse on students: most of them are still chatting away in the dining hall, probably, or at least not too keen on spending their downtime near their classrooms. Sylvain's the first one to talk again when there aren't any other students in sight. "I gotta say, it's good to see His Highness in good spirits again. Before we came here, I was worried he'd miss the trip entirely and just stay in his room... can't say I've ever known him to be as much of a shut-in as he was those last few weeks in Fhirdiad."

Of course Sylvain knows exactly what this is about. Claude doesn't even need to prod. It's kind of refreshing, actually, talking to someone who reads between the lines as much as he does--though in this case, he supposes, it's pretty obvious. But hearing this about Dimitri sobers him a bit, even though he knows Sylvain's only saying it as a lead-in to trickier topics. Claude isn't surprised, considering the sort of state the prince was in when he got here, but he is worried. "He told me a little about what's been going on there. It doesn't sound pleasant."

"Mh." Sylvain lapses into quiet.

Claude figures Faerghus' problems are probably the last thing Sylvain wants to talk about, so he changes the subject. "But here at the monastery, we all get to be in the same place for a while. Pretty rare otherwise, what with all our noble responsibilities and everything." He keeps a deliberately neutral tone on that last part; he wants to stay far away from sounding anything like Lorenz, but he doesn't want to send any messages about how the next Duke Riegan feels about his position, either. "I'm sure it's lifting all of our spirits." _Except Felix, I guess._

Sylvain's face lights up again and he looks to Claude with a cheeky grin. "'Noble responsibilities'... that's one way to put it. That aside, it is nice to finally see the man behind all the hype. If I really do come out of this having gained anything, sated curiosity is pretty satisfying, I think."

"Hype, huh?" Claude grins in return. "Well, I hope I live up. But I could say the same about all of you, too. Feels like I've already known you for years, even though we only just met a couple months ago."

Their walk takes them past the training hall, past the boarded-up sauna and down toward the dorms, only a little more populated than the classroom yard. Sylvain's still pretty cautious with all of this, and Claude isn't entirely sure why; it's giving the whole encounter kind of an ominous undertone. Sylvain doesn't talk again until they've drifted past a group of girls chatting away. "I dunno about lifting anyone's spirits. You already know there's a lot going on in Faerghus... maybe I'm at risk of sounding ungrateful, but there's a lot of other things I could be doing right now too, y'know." And Dimitri's probably feels much the same. It doesn't need saying, not when they both know him enough to notice it. The Kingdom's unease reaches him even this far south.

Claude is content to leave the silence where it is as they make their way elsewhere. _A lot of other things he could be doing, huh?_ From what Dimitri's said, there's a lot of fighting to be done if the Kingdom wants to keep order inside its borders. _And maybe outside,_ he thinks with slight irritation, considering who he's talking to...but that's not really fair to Sylvain. He's not responsible for how House Gautier interacts with Sreng--yet, at least.

"Sheesh, look at me rambling about nothing," Sylvain pipes back up again. "You're the one who wanted to talk, and I'm here hijacking the conversation. You don't really seem like the type of guy to just chat about the weather."

"Didn't sound like nothing to me. You've got a point--with all three of Fódlan's heirs and a lot of the other nobles of our generation here, this is one year fewer than we'd otherwise have to prepare for our inheritance and take care of business." He shrugs, his tone still casual-- "Not to mention what would happen if, gods forbid, something terrible happened here and we all died. I'm not sure the future of Fódlan could take it." Then he shakes his head. "But you're right, we're a little off topic. Back in the dining hall earlier, you seemed like you had something you wanted to say to me; I figured I'd find you before you forgot what it was." A smile eases onto his face.

The pond is all but deserted, and even the marketplace, too, is winding down for the day; even from here, they can see the merchants clearing their stalls to head down the mountain for the night. Sylvain's watching the greenhouse instead. "Did I? Well, guess that's not really wrong. Can't say I had anything _that_ dire to say to you, but... you know." Sylvain looks to the water, and watches the fish drift around. "I was just thinking, is all. Dimitri's been in his own head for four years straight. Felix is... normally pissy, yes, but it doesn't help that you're probably the only person who's been able to pull His Highness out of it. And _unlike_ Felix, I don't think that's something to be mad about. Or, Goddess forbid, jealous about." He's still smiling, but there's an edge to it when he looks over at Claude again, and distance in his eyes. Sylvain isn't even trying to hide it. "It's a little scary though, isn't it?"

 _Ah. So here's the heart of the matter._ Claude has to wonder how much of this is about Sylvain's own feelings and how much he's here on Felix's behalf. If it's the latter, he doubts Felix has any idea. He sticks his hands in his pockets and leans casually against the nearest wall, keeping his own eyes on Sylvain. "Is it? I don't know that I'd call having a close friend 'scary.' In fact, that's one of the things I like about the academy--making new friends." He smiles too, and there's no edge in it, but there _is_ distance. He's still not sure there's anyone here other than Dimitri and Hilda who he can call a 'friend.' Mercedes, maybe. But, of course, it's more important for him just to get along with as many people as he can--he'll need allies later. "If Felix is upset with me, he's more than welcome to come talk to me. I don't bite, I promise. " He winks.

"Felix'll be upset if he wants to be. And I don't mean any disrespect. It's really just kind of... bittersweet." Weird that now is the time that Sylvain holds eye contact. But at least he isn't looking at Claude so... coldly, anymore. "What can you do if your closest friend stops confiding in you one day? It's natural to want to help somehow, right? But you don't even know where to begin, because it's just not something you talk about. It doesn't make you want to help any less, but you can't really press it without butting in someplace you aren't wanted. Or without making things worse. Feeling like you have to leave them in the hands of someone else... I _would_ call that scary."

Somehow, Claude doubts that Sylvain means no disrespect. His smile doesn't waver, but the words feel like a blow. It isn't Claude's fault that Dimitri felt like it was getting hard to relate to his childhood friends when he was in a position of authority over them. They won't even call him by name, no matter how many times he asks. Just like...it wasn't Mercedes' fault that Dimitri needed someone to help him out of a dark place and Claude couldn't be around. But it's all too easy for Claude to imagine himself in Sylvain's position, because when he first met Mercedes, he felt the same way. And although he really does want to call Mercedes his friend, and she's never done anything to trouble him, he can't say he doesn't still feel the fear that Dimitri will one day stop confiding in him, too. Especially if Dimitri thinks Claude is after something more than friendship, and doesn't want that. How could Claude possibly prove that he isn't taking advantage of the prince then? Maybe then, Mercedes really would become his only confidant.

But there's no way Sylvain could know any of that, right? So the fact that he's jabbed the knife called uncertainty directly into Claude's heart and now he's twisting it with abandon has to be a coincidence. ...right? Claude has to salvage this somehow, though. The old fear that if he met Dimitri's best friends they would hate and mistrust him bubbles back up to the surface from somewhere deep under four years of having other things to worry about. Claude could be cruel. He could point out all the ways in which Dimitri's childhood friends have failed him over the years, he could rub salt in the wound by harping on just how easily he's been invited into the Lions' fold as though he were one of them...in Dimitri's eyes, anyway. Obviously, no one else's, if this conversation is anything to go by. He _could_ be cruel, but he won't. That's not the way to get what he wants. It rarely has been whenever people saw him as an intruder just for existing in their orbit. "Sylvain, I'm not here to get in the middle of anything. If my presence helps Dimitri, then I'll stick around. If there comes a time when it doesn't, then I'll take my leave. It's really that simple."

"I never thought you were." Sylvain isn't going very far to be convincing, but he still hasn't looked away. "And it was upsetting at first, for a while. I won't say I wasn't a little mad when I was younger, but like I said earlier, now it just feels... more bittersweet sometimes, knowing that maybe he's in better hands that aren't ours." On the other side of the pond, the other students are starting to filter back to the dorms. It's just barely starting to get dark, after all. They're far enough that Sylvain doesn't seem too worried about being overheard, though he finally looks away to watch as they walk. "I don't mean to sound like I'm giving up on helping him. I won't, not ever. I guess all of this is to say that I barely know anything about you even after all this time, but I still don't really have a choice besides hoping that he really is in good hands, for now. At least until I have ample time to make sure for myself." An odd statement to pair with a wink, but that doesn't stop Sylvain from doing it. "Gotta admit that I wasn't really prepared to talk about all this today, so... you got me there."

 _Of course you don't know anything about me, no one does. Except Dimitri. That's just...necessity._ "Heh. Well, I'm glad you did. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. And I'm glad to hear that you don't plan to stop trying to help him, because..." _Because after this year all of you will go back to Faerghus and I'll be alone again._ "I can't always be there. And I could reassure you that all I want is for Dimitri to be happy and safe until I'm blue in the face, but I can't ask you to just take my word for it." For his part, Claude never moves his gaze from Sylvain, not once. He tilts his head now, though. "But I _can_ remedy one thing. If you want to get to know me so you can make your own judgment, spend more time with me. Dimitri told me you like strategy games, is that right? Do you play chess?"

"He and I used to play it to death, when we were younger... but I do. Not that I've had good company for it, these past few years." There's no objection to Claude's proposals, either of them. Sylvain looks back to him, and musters a smile, one far tamer than minutes earlier. "I did happen to find a board set up in a meeting room. In the faculty building, I mean. Granted, I wasn't looking for chess boards when I was snooping around originally... but it beats the board I definitely left in Gautier."

"Then let's plan to play, and we can chat about whatever you want." Then Claude grins, impish. "Just what exactly _were_ you looking for in the faculty building?"

"Hey, I thought you'd understand the merits of exploration for the sake of exploration. Never know what kinds of interesting things they'd have lying around in a place like this... but if I know Dimitri, he's probably already out looking for you. I've bent your ear long enough for one day, I think."

"Oh, I definitely understand. I was just hoping to hear something juicy." Claude winks. But now he can't help but think about what it must be like for the Lions when Dimitri leaves them behind to look for him...but, sympathetic though he is, he's not about to change anything on his end. "Thanks for the talk, Sylvain. And not to ask you to play messenger, but if you could ask Felix to try to ease up on the vicious things he says to Dimitri, I'd appreciate it. They're upsetting him, much as he likes to pretend they aren't." He does his best not to sound as angry as he is over it. It isn't Sylvain's fault.

"I doubt I'll have much impact, but I don't mind passing it on. You might want to consider that he's not unaware of that..." But Sylvain nods, and gives Claude one last wave over his shoulder as he saunters off toward the dorms.

"Oh, I've considered it," Claude mutters under his breath after Sylvain's gone. He never thought this would actually do anything to change Felix's behavior, but maybe by sharing something like this with Sylvain, he can start to win some trust.

Sylvain's probably right about Dimitri hunting him down--it's about dinnertime--but he did tell Berith he'd stop by later, and he should check to see if they're back yet from talking to Jeralt. And their sister, apparently. Besides, maybe they can shed some light on the situation with their mother. And talking to Berith is always a breath of fresh air, even if he sometimes leaves with a lot more questions than he had when he went in. It's not like Berith's going to ask about all these complicated interpersonal morasses going on among the students--it'll be a good palate cleanser. He swings around the corner and into the classroom and glances around, figuring that if they're not back yet, he'll just stay here and get some work done until they return. "Hey, anybody home?"

Berith glances at him from behind their desk, and shuffles away some papers before signing. 'Come in.'

Claude wanders over to sit on Berith's desk. "Evening, Teach. You said you wanted me to drop by, so here I am."

'It seemed like you wanted to talk.' The professor leans against their desk, palms flat, and wait. They caught on, then, but at least they aren't trying to make assumptions. Probably.

 _Observant as always._ "I was just wondering how your sister--twin sister? she looks a lot like you--never came up in conversation before. Edelgard said she showed up out of the blue, something about seeing your mother? Is she here, too?"

'That's what our father said. I don't know how I'm supposed to take that.' They must be having a bit of a time trying to talk about it, but Berith isn't shying away from his questions. 'We are twins. But she works alone, usually... I don't get to see her often. A few times a year. Maybe.'

"Wait, _you_ don't even know?" Claude's not exactly a stranger to his parents not telling him important things, but 'your mother is here' seems like a no-brainer to him. "And he didn't explain it? Talk about tight-lipped..." Then the rest of it filters in, and he feels just a smidge sheepish, but only a smidge. "Sorry about being separated from your sister all the time. Are you close?"

'We are.' And they seem sure of it, even if they really only do see one another a few times a year. Berith pauses. 'He doesn't talk about her a lot. Our mother. I don't know her name. What she looked like. I always knew she was gone, but not how. Or where she ended up.' As much as one like them can, though, Berith manages to look troubled. There's the faintest crease in their brow, a flicker of doubt in their eyes before it's gone again. Blank as usual, in an instant. 'He never said anything about where she was buried. Or her being religious. Him being religious. I don't want to ask.'

Claude frowns. "Why not? Don't you want to know? I have a hard time imagining going through life without even a description or anything." _Then again,_ he thinks, _no one ever let me forget who **my** mother is...maybe they're better off._ "If she's here, she must have been someone pretty important to the Church, right?"

Berith's eyes snap back to lock gazes with Claude. 'Talking about her is the only thing I've ever seen shake him.' Slowly, after a second of pause, they look back to the door again, and watch the occasional student drift past the doorway. Whether they're waiting for privacy or finding their words, it's a good minute before they sign again. 'I'm in no rush to find out. He said she loved us. That's all I need.'

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm sorry to have brought up something painful. I was just curious, that's all." It's Claude's turn to fall silent, turning their last conversation over in his mind, too. This is the most expressive he's seen them, and even this isn't much. But this attitude of not wanting to ask questions might go a long way in explaining why Berith always seems oblivious to things that should be obvious to someone who grew up in Fódlan. It doesn't explain why Jeralt's been keeping them in the dark, but he figures that answer will become clear along with the rest of it. "Do you think it has anything to do with why the Archbishop made you a professor? Not that I'm complaining!" It's a hasty addition. "You clearly know what you're doing and I'm grateful for everything you've taught us. But you've got to admit, it was pretty sudden."

'The loud one said my father was a knight. Rhea did seem to know him.' It takes Claude a second to parse that, but--oh, right. That's what Berith called Alois back in the village, too. Well, they're not wrong. Alois' chattering was the background noise of their entire trip to and from Remire, pretty much... no honorific for the Archbishop herself, though? 'Byleth tried to ask him about it. He wouldn't answer yet. He will if she keeps asking.'

"Ha, persistent, is she? A lady after my own heart." But Claude looks thoughtful. "It's true that the Blade Breaker is famous for his fighting in the Archbishop's name, but your background doesn't exactly scream 'professor,' does it? Even for an education in combat, it's unusual." And that weird Crest of theirs that no one seems to recognize...all of this must be related, somehow. Claude's not sure how much of this he should share with Edelgard, despite their budding little conspiracy. It seems private, and for all that Teach is a mystery that needs solving, they're also trusting Claude with the answers to these questions, and that's not nothing.

'I won't pretend to know what she was thinking. Just that... my father is a direct person. A strong person.' Finally, Berith eases themselves down into their chair, and lets their gaze fall to the papers still spread across their desk. 'He doesn't run. Not without purpose. He was part of this church. Maybe he was even devout. So he must've had a good reason to leave it. And it's something neither of them will talk about. Not with me.'

Claude can't help a pang of sympathy--empathy, even. There were all kinds of things he didn't know about his own history until an uncle he didn't even know he had died a continent away. But Berith has a kind of faith in Jeralt that Claude can't claim to have ever really had in his mother; a consideration for his circumstances that Claude couldn't scrounge up for her. Still, no matter how hard it is to talk about bad memories, a parent shouldn't keep these kinds of secrets from their own children... "Well, if you believe in him, I guess that's all that really matters, huh?"

Berith nods, and then... thinks better of it, maybe. 'I still want to see her. Someday. Things are different for me, but it doesn't mean I don't want to know eventually.'

 _Things are different?_ Well, there are a lot of things that are unique about Berith, that's for sure. "Well, if you ever want help finding out, all you need to do is ask--this sort of thing is my specialty. And I'm not just offering to satisfy my own curiosity, either." He gives the professor a wink and then leans back on his hands on the desk, his gaze wandering. "My parents kept a lot of my history from me for a long time, too. So I know what that's like."

By the time Claude looks back, it's to catch the tail end of a sentence. '-you ask them?' There's a look on their face, and no doubt they're wondering what sorts of things his parents could hide from him, what in his past is even worth concealing... the professor doesn't seem the type to really fathom those sorts of things, though, in a way. Berith didn't really question why their own father would hide these things about their mother from them, after all.

"Oh--sorry." Not the first time he's forgotten to keep his eyes on Berith during a conversation; he's got to fix that. "I asked all _kinds_ of questions, but my mother always told me it 'didn't matter.' It may not have mattered to her, but it mattered to me. I didn't exactly have it easy growing up, and all the things she was keeping from me had a big part to play in that." Not that it would have been any easier had he known, but at least he wouldn't have spent all those years coming up with upsetting theories... "When I finally did find out, it wasn't because she changed her mind."

That's an admission that piques Berith's interest, obviously so. It might be a lot to take in, and they do go quiet for a few seconds, but Claude isn't left to his thoughts for long. 'How else could you find out?'

An uneasy feeling comes over Claude, seeing that subtle shift in their expression, but...a little empathizing never hurt anyone, right? It's still tough to believe there's any guile behind those almost-blank eyes, and now he knows them well enough to think that maybe, in this case, his first impression wasn't so far off the mark. Maybe. "We got a letter from my grandfather--Duke Riegan. She would have hid it from me, I'm sure, if I hadn't gotten my hands on it first. It told me enough to figure the rest out on my own."

'You didn't know you were his heir?' Berith makes it sound like such a simple question. As if there isn't a load of implications behind it. Claude freezes, watching Berith’s hands move, and knows immediately he’s said too much. Too late now to take it back, though, and thankfully Berith gives him an opportunity to breeze right by it--they're moving on before Claude gets the chance to answer. 'I guess it's a good thing you did find out. If you think it's a good thing you did, anyway. I'm guessing it bothered you that she would have tried to keep it from you, from the way you say it.'

“‘Bothered me’ is a bit of an understatement, heh. To be honest, I barely believed it at first. Then I was angry. But _then_ I realized what I could do with that kind of inheritance...I have dreams to fulfill, and now I might actually be in a position to do that.”

Berith's eyes light up. 'What kind of dreams?'

”Ah ah, Teach, that would be telling." He grins. "How can I retain an air of mystery if I just tell you?” The response comes out so easily, almost automatically, and he feels a little bad denying them when they look so excited—for them, anyway. But he’s given away plenty already.

The professor drops it quickly, and without much of a fight, either... they nod and let themselves settle back in their chair again. 'I understand.' The signing stops again. This silence doesn't seem as purposeful as usual... they start and stop a few times, but never quite seem to figure out what it is they want to say before they stand. 'I didn't want to take up a lot of your time. Figured you would have questions.'

Claude watches them, wondering what's going on in that mind of theirs. They're normally pretty decisive. "Hey, you're the professor--my time is your time. Oh yeah, before I forget, we're throwing a birthday party for Mercedes and inviting everyone from all three houses. You're welcome to come too, if you like."

'I'll have to see.' Their hands are busy tidying up for a few seconds, not that their desk isn't already organized. 'We've been busy outside of class. The professors. But I'll try.'

"Oh? Busy with what--anything I can help with?" He finally relents and hops down off his perch on the desk, letting Berith have the space back.

'Secret professor things.' Berith's signing is a little slow, a little stiff, as they go over the words. As always, they don't linger on it. 'But I'll let you know if something comes up.'

"Ouch, giving me a taste of my own medicine? That's cruel, Teach." He smiles ruefully. "I'll leave you to it, then. I don't want to get in the way of your secret professor shenanigans." He winks. "See you later." He gives them a wave and wanders back outside, feeling no less fascinated and mystified by the professor as he was when he went in.

As usual.


	15. Garreg Mach: Baking Up a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nothing short of a miracle that Mercedes' birthday arrives without word reaching her of Claude's plots, and so the universe counterbalances it with the near-destruction of the dining hall.
> 
> For what it might be worth, even though Claude and Dimitri did manage to convince everyone to let them form inter-house teams, that isn't what makes their little baking competition descend into chaos. No one kicks up any fuss in particular about who they're paired with, not even Felix or Lysithea once Dimitri reveals that they're a team—and with most of the Black Eagles eager to participate, it isn't as if anyone 's left out. Edelgard seems pleased to have Byleth, not even a professor (or even academy staff), as her last-minute partner. And, well, neither Claude nor Dimitri says anything when the only responses to their declared partnership are a quiet scoff from Felix and a Look from Hilda. They scrounge up enough simple recipes to place at each station too, foolproof enough for even the most culinarily-challenged to follow.
> 
> In theory.

It's nothing short of a miracle that Mercedes' birthday arrives without word reaching her of Claude's plots, and so the universe counterbalances it with the near-destruction of the dining hall.

For what it might be worth, even though Claude and Dimitri did manage to convince everyone to let them form inter-house teams, that isn't what makes their little baking competition descend into chaos. No one kicks up any fuss in particular about who they're paired with, not even Felix or Lysithea once Dimitri reveals that they're a team—and with most of the Black Eagles eager to participate, it isn't as if anyone 's left out. Edelgard seems pleased to have Byleth, not even a professor (or even academy staff), as her last-minute partner. And, well, neither Claude nor Dimitri says anything when the only responses to their declared partnership are a quiet scoff from Felix and a Look from Hilda. They scrounge up enough simple recipes to place at each station too, foolproof enough for even the most culinarily-challenged to follow.

In theory.

What they end up with is a dining hall seasoned from floor to walls with unholy amounts of sugar and frosting and flour; a stone oven burnt out by a particularly ferocious flame spell, courtesy of a negligent Linhardt; and very valiant, if still horrific, attempts to follow the recipes on the parts of most of their fellow students. If Claude hadn't announced beforehand that everyone would be expected to clean up, it'd probably be only him, Dimitri, and a professor or two left to mop up the floors and clean out the ovens.

At the end of the day, though, even if Teach and Petra's Brigid-inspired pudding is the winning dish (and one of few dishes actually in an edible state by the end), Mercedes smiles through the entire thing. Laughs a little, when Caspar and Hilda give up halfway through with a bowl of raw cookie dough, and laughs even more when Leonie chews Linhardt out for nearly burning the dining hall down. Even with Seteth there, ducking his head in from time to time to shoot them all a disapproving look here and there, it's safe to say Mercedes enjoys it--or gets a kick out of their incompetence, at least. And despite almost everyone agreeing that what Claude and Dimitri end up with is an inedible disaster, Claude still feels pretty good about the attempt. Is it their fault the recipe didn't provide any insight for what to do about overspiced dough? Granted, the spice wasn't _in_ the recipe to begin with, but still!

Overall, a success, probably. Right?

When she approaches Claude after the fact, with most of the cleanup done and nearly all of their fellow students having wandered off, it's with rosy cheeks and a smile so wide, it looks like it almost hurts. "Claude! There you are." She holds a plate in her hands, still filled with a few samples from what dishes were complete enough to eat. It looks like she's actually still... eating them. "Hilda told me that I have you to thank for all of this. I can't begin to say how kind it was of you."

Claude's in the process of trying to figure out how to get flour off the ceiling--the _ceiling_ , really, Annette??--when Mercedes finds him, and he smiles at her. "Well, I can't take _all_ the credit. All the Lions had a hand in planning it! But you're very welcome. Planning feasts and parties happens to be a specialty of mine, so I was glad to participate." He can't help a little hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, though, remembering that look on Sylvain's face...his presence alone at that little get-together must have been rough on them, let alone the fact that he came up with the idea for this. "Sorry the cookies we tried to make didn't really work out...heh."

"No, I'm quite glad you tried at all. It was an idea that I got from you after all, and I'd like to see you perfect it." She doesn't seem to notice the ceiling flour, but sets aside her plate of goodies and moves to a table nearby to scoop up some forgotten utensils for washing. "I didn't think I would get anything for my birthday, so it was a nice surprise." When she glances around, it's to see Edelgard and Byleth taking care to wipe down the ovens on one side of the dining hall; on the other, Hilda and Teach are rearranging the tables back into their usual positions. Even if their fellow students have given up on cleaning for the day, at least they don't have much more to do. "It isn't often that I celebrate my birthday at all. It was quite a nice change of pace."

"You usually don't celebrate your birthday? Why not?" As Claude talks, he hunts around for a broom and then vaults up onto the counter, crouching there for a moment to get his balance before standing and stretching up with the broom, trying to reach the ceiling. "Celebrating is one of my favorite things."

"Well, I _do_ celebrate it, but not quite in the way that you would think, really. Before this, I would spend my birthday with the people of my congregation." Mercedes has no remark just yet about Claude's antics, though even she can't keep her smile from straining with worry, watching him stand there on the edge of the counter. "Caring for the elderly that frequent our church, sharing in meals with them... I enjoy celebrating, but I enjoy it even more when it's about others too, not only me. So I'm very glad you all found a way to get others involved, and let them have fun with each other."

Claude balances carefully to brush at the offending flour. It's not... _totally_ ineffective. "Huh, I never thought about celebrating that way before. You really are a compassionate person, aren't you, Mercedes?" He teeters on the edge of the counter, but catches himself. "Whoa... I'm glad, too--the whole point of a celebration is to put smiles on everyone's faces, so the more the merrier!" Try number two...he inches _just_ a little closer to the edge. "What was it like, living in the Church? Not to blaspheme or anything, but I've never been the most religious person. I have trouble imagining it."

The scraping of chairs and tables quiets enough that Mercedes can talk a little more quietly, but without much of a reaction to that admission. "Very early days. My mother and I would wake up around five or so, to sweep the floors and clean the offering plates, and about an hour later, I would start on breakfast. Most mornings, we would go around town and bring breakfast to the elderly..." Her voice wavers. "Claude, do be careful up there. I'm certain it's alright if you can't quite clean _all_ of it."

"Don't worry, I've almost got it...if I can balance on top of a wyvern and fire a bow, I can handle this stubborn ceiling." Claude whistles, low. "Waking up before dawn...I can't imagine that either. Mitya might have mentioned, I'm not exactly a morning person." Just one more round with the broom ought to do it... Then a thought occurs to him. "It's good of the Church to take care of people who can't take care of themselves. I heard Rhea took Cyril in after a skirmish at the Throat, too."

"Oh yes, I heard much the same." She stops there, nothing else to say on the matter. Seems a little uncharacteristic of her, Claude thinks, and glances down at her--that's a pretty conspicuous silence. He opens his mouth to prod her, but they aren't alone anymore--Dimitri's approaching.

"You look as if you're having fun," Dimitri says, and cranes his neck to look to Claude up above. Judging by the expression on his face, Mercedes isn't the only one concerned by his perilous straining.

"You know, cleaning the ceiling is actually more fun than I--whoa!" Claude inches a little _too_ close to the edge. His foot slips, and he flails a hand out to grab something but doesn't quite catch himself in time--

But before Claude can even fully adjust to the idea that he's falling, he abruptly _isn't_. Dimitri's reflexes are sharp, sharper than Claude remembers. It takes but a step to cross that small distance, and when the prince catches him, it's with such little effort, as if he weighed nothing at all. Mercedes doesn't have time to even gasp before the prince holds Claude in his arms, though she does well to catch the broom before it hits the ground. Before he knows it, Claude's looking up into Dimitri's eyes, stern and concerned all at once, and his face heats up like a furnace.

"Claude," Dimitri says, a little scolding but no more than he's come to expect of the prince. "Are you alright?"

Claude grins in an attempt to pretend he isn't completely flustered. "Just peachy, Your Princeliness. I guess I still weigh nothing to you, huh?" He tries to will his heart to stop racing, because he knows _full well_ it's not just from the adrenaline of the fall. He's not sure what to do with his hands; when they were younger he would just throw them around Dimitri's neck, but doing that now seems like too much... He settles for resting them on his own chest, fingers laced together, and lying back as though Dimitri's arms are the most comfortable thing in the world. Which, Claude thinks, might not even be an exaggeration.

The few people who remain in the dining hall go quiet, for that second or so that Dimitri holds Claude. But soon he's lowering the other boy back onto his own feet without so much as a comment on it, only the lightest of brushes against Claude's shoulders to get rid of the flour there. "I'm more than certain the kitchen staff won't even notice. You've gotten most of it as it is." Dimitri hasn't even looked to the ceiling to verify it, though, only watches Claude with that telltale hint of humor in his eyes. Mercedes is watching them still...Claude hopes not too closely.

"It would seem even you are no match for gravity." Edelgard's jeering is more lighthearted than usual. Byleth snorts beside her.

 _...of course Edelgard saw that. At least it wasn't while the dining hall was full..._ "Not _yet_ ," he says, turning toward Edelgard with a wink and a smirk, more to give himself an excuse to tear his eyes away from that gently amused look he likes so much than anything. "Give me some time, I'll come up with a scheme to defy it."

It earns him the usual roll of her eyes, but no other scathing remarks follow. As quickly as she jumped into the conversation, she turns back and rejoins Byleth in their scrubbing and whatever quiet chatter they were having, and... Dimitri is still giving him that look.

Even when Berith wanders up, without even an ounce of haste. 'You look like you're having fun, for someone who almost broke his own neck.'

Claude sighs in exaggerated fashion at the both of them. "I'm never going to live this down, am I? It wasn't _that_ serious, Teach, I've fallen farther than that off a wyvern." His eyes wander back to Dimitri with a look that says, _'I see you secretly laughing at me!'_

"That sounds quite frightening... but I'm glad that you came out okay. From that incident, and this one!" There's a giggle on the end of Mercedes' words, and a twinkle in her eye.

"You too, Mercedes?" Claude pouts at her giggling, but gives her a grin a second later. He'll have to resume that chat with her about Cyril and the Church another time...when there are fewer people around. She smiles, turning on her heel to move to the sink and wash the dishes she claimed earlier. Berith only gives Claude a look before they're wandering off, too, and leaving him alone with Dimitri.

"That should be the end of the cleaning, once Edelgard and Miss Eisner have finished with the ovens." Still, Dimitri spares a quiet glance over his shoulder, back toward the kitchen. Yes, they're both still thoroughly wrapped up in their conversation again, and Mercedes is taking her time with what few dishes are left to wash. They've already tried to convince her a few times that she didn't need to work, but she insisted and so... "Are you ready to depart, Claude?"

"You can call her Byleth, she probably doesn't bite. Although she _is_ Teach's twin sister..." Dimitri doesn't even dignify that with a response, so Claude just nods. "More than ready, this is the second time I've been with Mercedes in the kitchen and it ended in disaster. I don't want her to start thinking I'm cursed or something."

"I wouldn't say you are cursed, but I've noticed you do tend to create your own trouble... what is it they say about cats and their curiosity?"

"Ah, but cats don't have a Mitya around to save them from themselves." He nudges Dimitri with his elbow, lightly. "Thank you for that, by the way."

"Anytime, of course, Claude."

When they wander outside, most of their classmates haven't yet filtered back to their classes or dorms just yet, and so it takes a few minutes of quiet dodging through the crowds before they've found someplace quiet. This time, their walk takes them across the bridge, toward the cathedral. Claude follows readily enough, taking a moment on the bridge to enjoy the view. He doesn't come to the cathedral that often, but he loves this bridge.

"How did your talk with Edelgard go?" Dimitri asks, voice low, as they enter the building.

"It was fascinating, actually." Claude speaks just as quietly, mindful of the echoes, although at this time of day there really isn't much of anyone here. "For one thing, she claims she's never been to the Kingdom." Then, lighter, "She _also_ says your kicked puppy face is better than mine, and I have to agree."

"I see." Dimitri's too focused on the seriousness of the former to react to the latter. "Yes... I expected as much." He doesn't find a pew to take a seat in, or even continue to the front of the chapel; he turns and continues left instead, and through the great doors onto the landing. "It's... troubling. I've observed much the same in my conversations with her... and haven't the faintest idea of what to make of it."

"I was thinking magic, maybe. But who would do that and why? And _how_ , for that matter. I'm no expert, but I've never heard of magic like that before."

"I don't know, Claude. While I'm obviously no expert in magic either, I do wonder if there's..." Dimitri sighs. From the landing here, the mountainside stretches further and further before it vanishes into the forests far below. The prince strides past the well and stops there, hands against the wall, looking down into the woods. "... I don't know. So much about her has changed, and I... don't even know where to begin."

Claude folds his arms and rests them on the wall beside Dimitri, leaning forward and peering downward, too. "You said her hair wasn't always that color, right? And she doesn't remember going to the Kingdom. What else is different?"  
  
"Well, that is... perhaps the disturbing part. I _know_ that she is different, but it's... as if I haven't the means to describe it. Some days, when we speak, it seems she hasn't changed at all, and yet at other times I struggle to recognize her. I will admit that it's been difficult to speak to her lately, not only because of this, but... that retainer of hers makes it hard to catch her alone."

"Tell me about it. I've never seen anyone take so much pleasure in sneaking up on people before." Claude shakes his head. "If it helps, she and I also talked about doing some investigating into the Eisner family and their connection to the Church, and I told her I'd bring you in too. So maybe that will give you the opportunity."

"Please... if anything, I doubt she would want to speak to me of anything outside of this mystery of yours. I seem to remember that she quite liked reading when she was younger... and I remember more than a fair share of conversations about mystery books I'd never heard of. But... it's something for all of us to work towards I suppose, together."

Claude reaches over to place one hand atop Dimitri's on the wall. "Together is right." He imagines it's awful to have a close friend suddenly act like they don't know you a few years later...and it's happened to Dimitri twice already. And to Sylvain. If that ever happened between the two of them--if Dimitri ever forgot about Claude, or stopped talking to him...well, that's not going to happen. He won't let it.

His thoughts stray back to Sylvain and that knife-edge look of his, though, and he wonders whether he ought to say something to Dimitri about it. On the one hand, he's always _(almost always)_ told Dimitri everything. On the other, he doesn't want to disturb the prince's friendship with the other Lions even more than he already has. Maybe something a little more neutral is in order. "Speaking of together, I had a chat with Sylvain earlier, and it turns out we have some interests in common, so we decided we'd meet up sometime to play chess."  
  
"Did you now? Yes, I suppose I could see you two getting along. When he feels the will to, he's quite the strategic mind. More learned than he lets on, at times." If anything, Dimitri seems all too pleased to hear it. If the prince takes notice of any hint of Claude's true feelings, he's hiding it flawlessly. "We'll be quite busy these upcoming months, so I do hope you find the time for it." And then, lower, "I had always hoped that you all could get along, you know."

If Dimitri really _doesn't_ notice, Claude thinks, he's doing a great job of stumbling over those feelings anyway. His casual tone is harder to wrangle than usual. "I always hoped so, too. I've been looking forward to meeting them for a long time." Pipe dreams, he knows now. But if he can spare Dimitri the truth for the rest of their time at the academy, he won't ever have to know how much trouble Claude's existence has caused his closest friends.

"Well, we've more time yet. And if our plans should come to fruition with more inter-house activities, then all the better." A warm smile, then... and it's brief, but Dimitri brings his other hand up too now, to cover Claude's and squeeze it so gently. "It will be amazing, Claude. I know it will."

Claude looks up into Dimitri's eyes and tries hard to make his smile look just as sincere. "Of course it will. This is us we're talking about, after all."

And there's never been any stopping them when they're together. And that will never change.

It can't.


	16. Garreg Mach: Petra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Footsteps herald the arrival of someone else at the classroom door. Claude turns to look, and flashes the newcomer a genuine smile.
> 
> Petra MacNeary is someone Claude wishes he knew better. As a couple of foreign royals from countries Fódlan has historically warred with attending Fódlan's most prestigious military academy, he thinks they must have some experiences in common, even if their situations differ wildly. For one thing, Petra will inherit her throne without having to fight for it--and yet, Claude knows she would if she had to, and she'd win, too. She's kind and inquisitive, headstrong and fierce, skilled and brave, and more open-minded than every Fódlaner he's ever met except Dimitri. If the prince didn't exist, Claude might well have started courting her by now.
> 
> Of course, Dimitri does exist, and at this point Claude has a hard time imagining courting anyone else. Ever. What a terrifying thought.

As the end of the moon approaches, Claude does find the time to play chess with Sylvain once before the Golden Deer's mission to the Red Canyon, and he tries to be as forthcoming as he can about himself without giving away anything important. Sylvain's so hard to read that he can't tell how good a job he's doing at winning his trust, but he resolves to keep up the attempt, at least. Claude's busier than usual in the few days leading up to the mission, though, going over the house's roster and a map of the canyon with Berith to plan tactics. He can't help feeling it's odd to send students after the bandits who nearly killed them the first time--and why only the Deer, when all three house leaders were there? But he won't turn down an opportunity to find out more, so he assures Dimitri he'll try his best to get some answers. The night before they depart, Claude takes his dinner back to the classroom so he can go over everything with Berith one last time while he eats.

True to precedent, Berith is there, though not necessarily awaiting him... when Claude arrives, they look up from a book they've chosen to bury their nose in, now closed and put away neatly within one of their desk drawers. 'Not getting your sleep before tomorrow?'

"Hey, Teach. I'll get some sleep, don't worry. But I wanted to make sure we've taken all the variables into account." He hops up to sit on one of the front-row desks with his plate in his lap. "Like the fact that this will be the first real battle for most of the house. I'm a little worried about how some of them will take it."

Berith is getting that look on their face, that little tilt of the head, that tells him they're not quite certain what he's alluding to... at first. The professor straightens their posture. 'A real fight, you mean.'

"I mean real bloodshed." Claude's tone is more serious, now. "Mock battles are one thing, but putting down the training weapons and picking up something that will kill your opponent is another altogether. Some of the Deer were merchants and farmers before they came here. Even some of the nobles are...let's say, sheltered."

They do consider Claude's words, for a moment. 'It's unfortunate, but these may be the best circumstances. Foes that possess no threat too great, but who aren't innocent, either. It's not a good thing to have to get used to. But if they're going to need to get used to it, no better enemy than one who would just as quickly try to kill them first.' It's apparent, though, that the professor... hadn't considered the possibility. Not much, at least, or maybe not even at all...

Claude nods. "I agree. We've just got to make sure they don't freeze up and get themselves hurt. I'd suggest a kind of buddy system, make sure no one goes off alone, even the snipers. We can pair the less experienced fighters with those who have seen a little more action." Claude doesn't volunteer whether or not he himself will have any problem with this; the first time they ran into these bandits, all he had with him was a training weapon and he was already injured by the time Berith showed up, so he didn't do any killing. That night, at least.

'That could work.' Berith's teaching thus far, in preparation for this mission in particular, has most certainly been... a unique experience, far more candid perhaps than the education their peers of other houses have received, but even that won't be enough to face the real thing, will it? 'I'll be doing what I can to look out for them. That leader of theirs. I'll deal with him myself.'

"I'm coming with you, Teach. We need to find out who sent them after us to begin with and how they knew the knights wouldn't be with us when they ambushed us. If someone in the Church set us up, we have to know before we take that guy down."

'I have no objections. But if I tell you to go back for your classmates, I mean it.' And the look on their face, too, conveys it well enough—probably the most stern the professor has ever bothered to look. 'I won't compromise safety for information.'

Claude sighs. "I know. I get it. I'll listen, I promise."

Footsteps herald the arrival of someone else at the classroom door. Claude turns to look, and flashes the newcomer a genuine smile.

Petra MacNeary is someone Claude wishes he knew better. As a couple of foreign royals from countries Fódlan has historically warred with attending Fódlan's most prestigious military academy, he thinks they must have some experiences in common, even if their situations differ wildly. For one thing, Petra will inherit her throne without having to fight for it--and yet, Claude knows she would if she had to, and she'd win, too. She's kind and inquisitive, headstrong and fierce, skilled and brave, and more open-minded than every Fódlaner he's ever met except Dimitri. If the prince didn't exist, Claude might well have started courting her by now.

Of course, Dimitri  _ does _ exist, and at this point Claude has a hard time imagining courting  _ anyone _ else. Ever. What a terrifying thought.

Another difference, of course, is that everyone  _ knows _ Petra's the heir to Brigid's throne. In some ways, he envies her that--she doesn't have to keep secrets that distance her from her peers, she doesn't have to sit through others talking about her people in... _ unflattering _ terms to her face without realizing what they're doing. Of course, he's heard them do so fully aware, but Petra at least can defend herself and correct the misconceptions. But, although opinions about Brigid in Fódlan are more positive than those about Almyra, they're still hurtful, he can tell. Sometimes, when she thinks no one's watching, Petra looks terribly lonely. And Claude, who has access to information most students don't and makes it his business to know things he shouldn't, has heard a few troubling things about the real reasons behind Petra's time in Fódlan. He hopes they're not true. He hopes Petra isn't living with that on her shoulders every day. He hopes, but he expects to be disappointed.

"Hey, Petra! What brings you here at this hour?"

"Hello, Claude. Hello, professor." Petra is chipper for this time of night. Maybe she's a night owl in her own way, too? "I came to speak more to the professor, but it is good that you are here also." Then she turns to Berith, and speaks louder, quite clearly. "I have thought more about this offer, and I accept gladly, if you still will have me!"

The professor stands, and moves around the desk to face the both of them, then. 'If you have no objections,' to Claude, now, they sign, 'I've invited Petra to join our class. The Eagles have been good to her, but I believe our instruction will benefit her better.'

Claude’s face lights up. “No objections here, that’s a great idea! Welcome to the Golden Deer.” He holds out a hand for Petra to shake.

Petra's face lights up too, whether at the warm welcome or recognizing the intent behind the gesture, and it's one she returns with a hearty handshake of her own. Her sheer grip strength... "Your acceptance brings me great happiness! And I will prove my value to your house. You will not regret it. It was my wish to join before the mission tomorrow. I understand that your-–that  _ our _ classmates are without much experience. I hope to help however I can."

”Hey, you don’t have to convince me - had I known Teach asked you, I would have been trying to convince  _ you. _ Now, there  _ is _ one thing you need to learn right away, as a newcomer to our esteemed house.” Claude lifts his hands up to his head, thumbs flat against his hair, fingers splayed to resemble antlers. “Your turn.”

"Oh!" Petra imitates flawlessly, of course, and bursts into a bout of low chuckles at the silliness of it all. How different this all must be, compared to being in the Eagles... yet she sounds entirely sincere when she says, "You have my thanks, Claude."

Claude grins. “Anytime, Petra. And I mean that - if Teach is ever unavailable and you need anything, my door’s always open for my fellow Deer.” He sobers a little more. “As for tomorrow, you’re right - we do have a lot of classmates with no experience fighting for their lives or taking others. Having you there will be a huge help.”

'Not if the two of you are sleep-deprived.' Interjecting with sign seems difficult, but Berith manages. 'We'll have to leave it for tomorrow. You two go and get your rest.'

"Yes, of course. Thank you again, Claude, professor. A good night to you both." Petra marks her departure with a bow and a smile, before she slips from the classroom. The courtyard outside seems empty otherwise... looks like the other students have all probably had the same idea.

”Why didn’t you tell me you invited Petra to join our class, Teach? Anybody else I should expect to show up on our doorstep?”

'She wasn't sure she would. I thought it might get your hopes up.'

”Well, you were right about that.” 

Berith pauses to consider. 'I did ask a few more. No luck. I wanted to get Petra away from that house the most.'

Claude frowns slightly. “So it’s true, then? The reason she’s in Fódlan?”

'Of course it is. They haven't been hiding it. I don't think Edelgard has bad intentions. But it doesn't sit right with me.'

”Me either. You did the right thing. I can’t imagine being in her position, I don’t know how she keeps such a positive attitude.”

'I hope it'll be good for her.' The professor takes a minute, then, to stop signing, and leans against their desk. It seems there's quite a bit on their mind, but nothing they want to voice just yet. Berith is pushing up to walk back around and take a seat in a moment's time. 'I need to finish up here. I'll meet with you in the morning.'

Claude watches them, waiting, but he doesn’t press when he’s dismissed. For now, anyway. “You got it. Good night, Teach.” He’s lost in thought on the way back to the dorms, idly kicking a pebble ahead of him on the path as his mind churns over Petra’s situation and how awful it is. Soon enough, his steps take him up to the second floor and down the hall to Dimitri’s room, where he knocks on the door, hoping it’s not so late that the prince is already asleep.

Soon, the door cracks, and a pair of blue eyes peers through at him. "Ah..." Dimitri opens the door further, inviting Claude in with nothing more than a small smile, tired as it looks. He  _ looks _ ready for sleep, in his nightgown and with his hair already mussed from lying down, though his bed is still adorned by books scattered across the sheets... "What are you still doing awake?"

”I was just having a last minute chat with Teach about tomorrow’s mission.” Claude comes into the room and flops onto Dimitri’s bed, books or not. Once there, he’s mostly staring at the ceiling. “And Petra transferred to the Deer.”

"Did she, now?" Dimitri closes the door, locks it, and moves then to lie next to Claude, settling on his side. "I've seen her in the training hall, quite a force to be reckoned with."

”She really is.” 

Dimitri goes quiet; when a hand moves to play with Claude's braid, such an idle and innocent thing, Dimitri is painstakingly gentle with it. "... the mission, tomorrow." He's frowning, though obviously doesn't realize it. "Are you nervous?"

Claude scoots just a little closer so he can rest his head against Dimitri’s shoulder. “Nervous? A little. But really, I’m worried about all the Deer who have never done anything like this before. And worried about what else those bandits might know, if someone in the Church really did send them after us.” He sighs. “Teach said they might order me to fall back and let them handle the leader, if the class needs my help.”

"That might be for the best, if those in your class... have no true experience with bloodshed." Dimitri accommodates the change without question, and lies more carefully on his back. "The professor can hold their own, but I doubt that they can do both at once very well. Hopefully it will not be necessary... but we both know firsthand that these brigands had few moral qualms about slaying children."

”And how.” Claude frowns, thinking about Ignatz and Marianne on a battlefield with those vicious bandits. “Don’t worry, Mitya, I said I’d do as I was told for once.” He gives a wry smile, as he glances up at Dimitri. “And Petra will be a huge asset, but...” He shakes his head. “Have you heard about her situation?”

Claude's tone seems to worry Dimitri even more. "Her situation... I've heard a great deal of the conflicts between the Empire and Brigid, but her specific circumstances? I can't begin to imagine. I know that... none of it ended well, for Brigid or for Dagda, and the vassalage of her people..."

It’s Claude’s turn to play with Dimitri’s hair with one hand, fiddling with the silky smooth strands. “She’s been in Enbarr for years. As a hostage. To keep Brigid from rebelling again.” His tone is steely, now.

Dimitri almost manages to hide his reaction, but the way he stiffens is undeniable, with Claude lying against him. He struggles to find his words. "I... am glad, then. That she could find her way into..." The prince sighs, and covers his face with a hand. " I apologize, I merely-– How is this alright? Even remotely? That's... unacceptable."

”Don’t apologize. It’s _not_ alright. Teach recruited her to get her away from the Empire, even if just a little.” Claude exhales in what’s less a sigh and more a deflation, as he leans more heavily on Dimitri beside him. “But she’s so...strong. She doesn’t let it stop her. If that were me, I’d have gone crazy. It’s not right, Mitya, and...for all our big plans, there’s nothing we can do.”

"You don't know that for certain." Whether it's sleeplessness or indignation, or a mixture of both, Dimitri's voice dips low, hardly even a whisper. "I... even if it takes years, I'm sure—I know Edelgard would never stand for such a thing. Even if she did, I can't... I won't abide such an injustice going unpunished."

”That’s what Teach said, too. They didn’t think Edelgard had ill intentions. And for all I know, she has been helping Petra, but...I’d bet there’s a reason she accepted Teach’s offer. And then there’s Cyril. Did you know he used to be a servant of House Goneril?”

"Was he, now..." Despite the strain in his tone, it's clear Dimitri's trying his best to calm, and looks like he's taking just as much comfort in the circles he rubs against Claude's hip as the other boy is supposed to. "... I'm sorry, such a reaction was unbecoming of me. These... transgressions, I cannot bear to hear them and think there is so little I can do."

”I know.” It is a comfort, though, just having Dimitri here to listen. Without thinking much about it, Claude shifts to burrow into Dimitri’s side, wrapping one arm around the prince. “When I talked to Cyril, he sounded like he hated Almyra for letting it happen to him, after his parents died in one of their pointless border skirmishes. And I...I know I’m not one for second-guessing, but for a minute there I wondered if I might have been able to do something for kids like Cyril, if...if I’d stayed.”

"You know as well as I do that your siblings would have undermined any such attempt of yours, if your parents themselves didn't first." It's not exactly a comfort, not on the surface, but-– "Perhaps it is pessimistic of me... but I assume you would only have ended up more frustrated having tried and been prevented. Cyril may not be wrong, in a way, but Fódlan too is to blame for it. Even if they had let you proceed mostly unopposed... I've no doubt there are those at the Throat who would go to great lengths in provoking more confrontation."

”You’re right, of course. And I came to my senses pretty quickly then, too. I guess talking to Teach about Petra just got me thinking in circles tonight.”

"It's a lot to take in. And a lot to think about." Dimitri's calming down again, and it's apparent both in the lightness of his touch and the relaxing of his body beneath Claude's head. "You always put so much of yourself into caring for others. Of course you'd keep yourself awake thinking about their safety at a time like this..."

It isn’t caring for others, Claude wants to say. All he does is push people toward his idea of what the world should be like. Which, he supposes, will be his job someday—but still. He doesn’t say any of that to Dimitri, though, knowing he’ll disagree. “Knowing me, I’d be keeping myself awake with something else if not this, heh.” _Time to lighten the mood._

"I'll merely have to keep you here in bed all night, to be certain you don't keep yourself up." Dimitri either doesn't realize the little... implications, there, or simply couldn't care less. To prove his point, though, the prince seems more than happy to turn himself, lying now on his stomach and with his arm braced over Claude--more or less pinning him to the sheets. Where Dimitri rests with his head cradled against his other arm, the curve of his smile is just barely visible.

Claude's breath catches for a second, though he's not sure why. There's something about this that's--well, he's not going to dwell on that. "Oh, is that right? Sheesh, I never thought  _ His Highness the Prince of Faerghus _ would stoop to  _ kidnapping, _ but here we are. And they say the first responsibility of every prisoner is to escape, so..." He pushes on Dimitri's arm in an attempt to wiggle away from him, though it's not all that serious an attempt.

"Is it? I see." Dimitri takes the initiative once again, and that arm around Claude's waist draws him in suddenly, all but dragging him across the bed—until they lie flush, Dimitri squirming until he can lie on his side, and hug the other boy close with even less effort. "Your struggles will get you nowhere, here."

This, Claude thinks, was a mistake. Dimitri's warm and he's in his nightclothes and he smells good and  _ gods _ he's so strong... But it's a mistake Claude's not about to take back. "Whoa--! Hey!" He tries to keep from laughing and fails, only wriggling harder now, trying to get a hand free from where Dimitri's trapped his arms against his body. "That's...what  _ you _ think..."

"Oh? You believe you can prove me wrong?" And for good measure, slight as it is, that grip grows tighter, and... what they must look like, with Dimitri squeezing Claude as he would the stuffed lion at the head of his bed. Soft laughter bubbles in his chest, so careful in consideration of his neighbors...

Claude's not holding back anymore, struggling for all he's worth, and  _ still _ he makes zero progress. "Gah--you have to have... _ some _ weakness..." It's ridiculous, he thinks with a rush of heat to his face, that he's literally doing everything he can to free himself and Dimitri's  _ barely _ trying. Not to mention that the prince is pressing Claude's whole body tight against him and things might get sort of...uh... _ awkward _ if this keeps up...not that Claude's in a hurry to end it. Which is odd, he'll think later, because normally he hates feeling confined... Finally, he tires himself out and gives up, laughing breathlessly as he thumps his head lightly against Dimitri's chest in defeat. Or at least, that's what he wants the prince to believe. "Okay, I give up. You win. I'm not going anywhere, clearly." He waits just a couple of seconds, just to take Dimitri off-guard, before he changes his plan of attack--as it happens, pinning his arms to his sides means his hands are in  _ just _ the right place to dig his fingers in and tickle Dimitri.

The prince muffles his surprise, though that's about the extent of his control over his reaction; the nearest surface to press his face into and stifle his yelp is Claude's shoulder, and his arms squeeze and lock up by instinct, probably nearly squashing the other boy in the process before he thinks to let go for Claude's sake. His giggles slip through, even when Dimitri covers his smile with his forearm. "Claude-–!"

"Oof--" Even through the near-squashing, Claude keeps it up, relentless. He's grinning, wicked and triumphant, by the time Dimitri lets go, and as soon as he's free he redoubles his tickling. "My, how the tables have turned, Your Princeliness!"

Dimitri suffers in near silence, trying so desperately to curl in on himself before the whole endeavor proves fruitless. He startles himself when a bark of laughter escapes him, and shoves back in pure reflex—only for his eyes to widen and the air to leave his lungs when Claude practically flies away from him and over the edge of the bed.

"Gah!" It takes Claude by surprise, but fortunately he's had plenty of practice with falling safely from wyverns and horseback, so he manages to roll upon impact with the floor, softening the landing. He ends up sprawled on his back and looking up at the prince, trying to catch his breath and laugh at the same time, somehow. 

"I--" Dimitri scrambles from the mattress, not at all in time to break his fall, of course not, but... Suddenly softer, when he remembers why they were being quiet in the first place, he says, "Claude, Goddess, are you alright? I'm  _ so sorry. _ "

Claude waves a hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine. My dignity, less so, but I'm not ashamed to admit that I kind of deserved that." He grins.

Even with the reassurance, Dimitri is pulling Claude to his feet in an instant, eyes raking over him for signs of injury. How relieved the prince looks when he sees none. He must be aware that Claude would only refute any further attempt at apologies, because he sits quietly back on the bed, perturbed, clearly, and mouth set in a line.

Claude sits down beside him. "Mitya, I promise, it's okay. You didn't do it on purpose, and I was being a pest, and there was no harm done." He places a hand over Dimitri's. "Okay?"

"You weren't," Dimitri replies quietly. But he seems just as reluctant to dwell on it, and rubs at his eyes. "It must be later than I thought... I was trying to sleep, to no avail. As... per usual. But I did not realize - I must be tired."

"Then let's sleep." Claude undoes the clasps on his jacket and pulls it off, tossing it over the back of Dimitri's desk chair. Then he scoots back to lie down and pats the pillow next to him. "And promise me you won't beat yourself up about this." He's not kidding, not being flippant--he's entirely serious.

"Mmh." It's even more of a non-answer for Dimitri than it would be for anyone else. He obliges without further comment, though he doesn't slide back underneath the sheets before he's put out the candle on the sill.

Claude frowns, turning onto his side and propping his head up on a fist. "That's not anything like a promise. Don't clam up on me. What's wrong?"

"I will try not to. But I doubt that I could make such a promise," Dimitri says. The look on his face is... vague, in the darkness. "I  _ do _ generally resent tossing about my friends like used handkerchiefs."

"I know. But it was an accident. I accidentally poked Hilda in the eye once trying to learn how to do her makeup, that kind of stuff just happens sometimes. You can't expect to be perfect, no matter how much you think you're supposed to. And I know what you'll say--it's your responsibility to be careful with your strength, you've trained to control it all your life, you have to be someone your people can look up to--I get it. But you're not just a Blaiddyd and a prince and a role model, Mitya, you're a human being." Claude's smile is gentle. "And I like the human being version of you best."

Dimitri says nothing, but his arms reach out to Claude in the dark, finding him by the arms, and all but dragging him the short distance it takes until Dimitri can bury him in a hug. There were times in their younger years when Claude would surprise him like this, with soft sentiments he wasn't expecting so suddenly; Dimitri is no loudmouth, not by a longshot, but he's far too well-mannered to ever truly lose his words, except for in times like this.

Claude lets himself be pulled and wraps his arms around Dimitri tightly in turn, resting his head on the prince's chest. They may hug a lot less now than they used to when they were kids (which, granted, isn't  _ difficult _ _),_ but Claude's glad they still can, and it's almost alarming how much of a comfort it is. He stays like that for a while, content to just relax here, safe and warm with Dimitri.

It isn't even clear for a while whether Dimitri is still awake, but eventually, softly, he thinks to speak up again. "Thank you for staying with me, Claude. Without you, I..."

"...of course. There's nowhere else I'd rather be." And it's true, too. "And I'm sending that gratitude right back at you--if I had to be alone tonight preparing for the mission tomorrow, I'd probably never get to sleep. ...too bad you can't come with us, huh?" Which is Claude-speak for 'I would feel much better if you came with us.'

"Were it so easy." And, had he less faith in Claude, less respect for the professor, perhaps, and less concern over propriety, maybe Dimitri  _ would _ try to bully his way onto this little excursion of theirs. "But if I might instead help you find sleep beforehand... that will be enough for me."

Claude sighs, closing his eyes and making no move to leave this embrace. "Here's hoping you find it, too--I'd hate to keep it all to myself." There's a bit of a grin in his voice. "Sweet dreams, Mitya."


End file.
